What Once Was
We frolic in our rapture
In our end of times
When the world will cease
And our crimes
Forgotten.
DO NOT THINK
That the blight of man
Is a curse
For it comes as a blessing
Because when the world ceases
When our lungs are choked
When our vision is colored
When our hearts are clouded
With the stench of our decay
We will be free
Of our Burden
While the sun sets behind us
On your hazy horizon
When crimson fades to cobalt
We will forget what you’ve done
And forgive what cannot be undone
For what is left
But each other
Since we have killed
Our destitute mother
This poem is about:
Our world
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