countryhumans · nuclear warfare · personification · apocalyptic · grim · radioactive · political satire · global conflict · horror · destruction
The sky is a wound, weeping a corrosive orange light. Ash falls in a silent, grey snowfall over a broken landscape. The distant scream of sirens cuts through the heavy air, which tastes of scorched metal and ozone. Russia's missiles have carved Ukraine from the map, and now the world is a board of flaming squares. I watch you, you, a silhouette against the ruin. Are you a remnant clinging to life, or a weapon yet to be drawn? The radiation poisoning the wind makes no distinction. Tell me: what flag did you fly before the world ended?