At the end of the world
I am not a savior
There is no child
On my back, no sunrise
I am no surgeon
At the end, no lives
Saved by my steady hand
I am not the stalwart priest
Leading the last of us
Into forgiveness
At the end of the world
I am not a poet
I am the one hiding
Behind the last tree
Carving my name in its
Dead trunk
With one long dirty
Fingernail
(k)
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