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How I Survived World War 3

An Apocalyptic Short Poem

By Wolf LancasterPublished about a year ago 2 min read
How I Survived World War 3
Photo by Paul Carroll on Unsplash

Well, I made it.

Survived the next world war—

who knew I had it in me?

Dodged the chaos, the fire,

the total collapse of civilization,

and all I got was this lousy survivor’s guilt.

But, hey, what’s done is done.

So now I’m retiring—

to Antarctica.

Yep, that’s right, the bottom of the world,

where the penguins roam free

and the Wi-Fi is… nonexistent.

A small price to pay for peace and quiet, I guess.

Antarctica, the ultimate retirement plan.

Forget Florida, forget the beach,

I want snow—

lots of it.

Ice as far as the eye can see.

And it’s not just the cold kind of snow—

it’s the “Why did you think this was a good idea?” snow.

No more politics, no more leaders,

no more “breaking news” alerts—

just me, my parka, and the wind screaming at my face.

Honestly, it’s kind of peaceful…

if you don’t count the frostbite creeping into my toes.

Small price for tranquility.

I’ve got my little shack set up.

A couple of blankets, a can of beans,

and a penguin neighbor I call Steve.

Steve doesn’t say much,

but he’s a good listener—

or maybe he’s just hungry.

Hard to tell with penguins.

Either way, it’s a win-win.

It’s like we’ve got a buddy system going on.

I always thought retirement was about kicking back,

sipping something tropical with a little umbrella.

But no—

I’m here, boiling snow for water

and wondering if I’m ever gonna see a tree again.

Or the sun, for that matter.

But hey, no sunburns down here, right?

Silver linings!

And every once in a while, I think,

“Was this the right call?”

But then I remember the whole world’s a mess up north,

and I’m the lucky one—

the one who found the ultimate bunker:

a place where nobody wants to go,

and the biggest threat is an overly curious seal.

Sure, it’s cold—

freezing, actually.

And the rations are running low,

and I may or may not be losing it,

talking to Steve like he’s my new best friend.

But I’ve got ice sculptures to make

and nothing but time.

So why not lean in, right?

Retirement to Antarctica.

It’s not glamorous.

It’s not warm.

But it’s mine—

me and the penguins,

chillin’ (literally)

at the end of the world.

And honestly,

it beats rush hour traffic.

humorStream of Consciousnessinspirational

About the Creator

Wolf Lancaster

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  • Testabout a year ago

    well done

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