Fated onto silence,
left to rot and contemplate everything,
but the emptiness of the cold shells of what we've become.
Empires have crumbled to dust,
content to wait out centuries without action.
This is a promise, to erase and reverse every action
This is a promise, to bleed the imperfections out.
Painting poems writhed from spoilt blood.
Forests begin to lose colour,
as perspectives of the world fade to grey and black.
Skies immolate, launching projections and memories
of days that once were.
Evolved from compassion and understanding,
to walking mountain tracks feeling nothing,
but the burn of self-righteousness
How the days change.
Even stars burn red, seething from our hate.
Time passes through eons,
leaving our pride to be fed upon by the vultures.
Absorbed so far, fallen so deep,
Family canvas complete,
with love and acceptance,
only to be erased to a blank page
with only one simple scribble.
Painting poems writhed from spoilt blood.
Infect the world, bleed it, and bring the flood.
Absorbed so far, fallen so deep,
Family canvas complete,
with love and acceptance,
only to be erased to a blank page
with only one simple scribble.
This is who we are.
As the rain continues to fall,
My world drowns in water,
Struggling to scream
As my saviour turns around
And walks away with every ounce of hope I ever breathed.

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