Spoiler
This poem has a form. This form is called a Sestina. Basically I started with six words; end, cynic, faith, red, holy and crumble, and I then have to put those words at the end of each line, based on a predetermined structure, e.g. stanza 1 has the order of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 and stanza 2 has the structure of 6, 1, 5, 2, 4, 3 and so on. The final stanza combines 2 words per line, this is called an envoy.
No consolance for those close to the end.
For they were doubters, those like the cynic,
Or even some of pure heart, hindered by misplaced faith.
Between the two, only the foremost embraces the world of red.
An unfamiliar sensation, yet undoubtedly holy
Striking your temple of desire, causing hopes and dreams to crumble.
Leaving his temple of desire allows him to see society crumble.
Without a doubt, he knew this was the end.
How could a thing of such destruction be called holy?
Masses had been left behind to bear witness. Being a cynic,
This was no surprise. Thoughts trapped, lying in a red
Sea, gives him time to see the lies within those proclaiming false faith.
Grieving men, their sorrow compounded as they once had faith,
Only to lose it before their time was up, the irony of it causing many to crumble
On the spot. Breaking down into savages, oozing red
Bloodlust. Why not pillage, rape and murder when the end
Is nigh. One certain cynic
However, has his mind on one thing. Holy.
No, not that kind of holy.
Holly, the only one who had, and will have faith
In me. Yes me, the cynic,
Caring nothing about all else, my heart is yet to crumble.
Though it would if I met my end
Before seeing her, kissing me with her lips of red.
My mind, rarely static, is now settled on meeting my end.
Fuck destiny, fuck the big plan, oh, excuse me your holy.
Or maybe I’m already painting the picture, brilliant hues of red
No longer in anger, but burning faith,
Instead. She would still be there, my resolve shall not crumble.
I pass a man with a sign reading – “There is no hope” - , oh, what a cynic.
I stride past everything, even leaving my cynic –
Al mind-state behind. The dominant sea of red
Sweeps me onto her doorstep. Her house, unlike most, is yet to crumble,
Standing still and serene, it emits something holy.
Inside my beliefs are tested, by a bearded man of faith,
His all knowing eyes, filled with all known emotions, feeling the end.
In those eyes I could see the cynic within the Holy
Raw and ruthless, bleeding red love, still standing strong by his own faith.
And suddenly, everything crumble’s inwards, without enough time to even comprehend the end.
Spoiler
Oh and for anyone who dosent know what the rapture is its basically when god deciedes who goes to heaven and who goes to hell.. google it if you want anything more specific then that.. 
