There were only a few signs at first:
Rumors on the streets,
sidelong glances and knowing looks,
specific questions and awkward conversations.
Then it became more obvious:
those close to me getting ready,
news from (un)verified sources.
The explosion came long after:
It shook the ground as ire spewed from our mouths,
sending people nearby running for cover.
Smoke billowed out from our ears and noses.
Words, like flaming comets raining to the ground,
littered down and burned both of us.
We hissed and seethed like bubbling water, burning anyone
that was unfortunate enough to be close to us.
The radioactivity alone was the silent killer,
the air too toxic to breathe in.
We were immune to the poison, since we were the source,
so we drank it in as it killed our lungs.
The fallout was shocking; nothing was spared.
Everything that remained was reduced to rubble and ashes.
We sat in silence for a while as we took this in.
There was no hope for an "us" anymore.
What came n