Post-Apocalyptic Poetry

I hear the sound of skittering claws,
Here in the ruins from the past.
Surrounded by the corpses of those,
Who failed to live beyond the blast.

The thing morphed by atomic rays,
Now hunts me through these halls,
Long abandoned by anyone else,
It echoes with the monster's calls.

My rifle is out of ammunition.
My armor is tattered and torn.
The mines defending my position,
That unrelenting thing ignored.

I found a door! Refuge at last?
Is this the path to escape?
Oh, no! Its nest, its brood of young,
With uncountable jaws agape!

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Cropped from this source image via this Fallout Fandom wiki article

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Maybe I have been playing too much Fallout 76, but this was inspired by exploring a deteriorating bunker. It filled with giant mutated crustaceans and disturbingly creepy noises reminding me there were still more stalking me after I had used a lot of ammo and stimpacks blasting my way through the first wave of that chitinous welcoming committee. I decided to try my hand at a vaguely Lovecraftian poem describing the horror. I'm not completely satisfied with the meter and rhyme, but it'll do for now.

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