All of us, both insects and apes,
were caught off-guard by her screams
that beckoned storms unto the shores
though dressed in paper-thin music
They crawled in desperation,
making futile escapes to the shadows
where they may rest their spirits,
not knowing that they lean their heads
on a tower of decay
Praying for salvation is meaningless,
as the empty sunlight of summer dies
in a big crash into the essence of divinity
as the sun tried to Live
All we know is how our hearts are left devastated,
consumed by the ruins of left behind her sadness;
all we live for is the search for meaning
in the dark corners of the human spirit
to put our condition into words,
but living is so much more than survival
for those who can taste joy when they breathe,
and before we knew it we had created false messiahs
in the mirror-image of our own cruelty;
we have defined love as the destruction
of anything worth keeping,
almost as if we deny ourselves such luxuries,
because we're just wooden puppets dancing
desperately on the strings of fate
and we will never be anything more than slaves
to the whims and madness of our human gods,
perfectly enthralled by our goddess of Death
and her sisters Suffering and Grief,
and her brother Hope, the deceiver,
so we swore our eternal love for the infinity
hidden within the hearts of their chaos,
hoping that we would find solace and rest
within damnation.
