Even I drown in hope of a new dawn in this desolated hill. I remember all the laughter and I cherish every memory but the truth is that all is grey and old, dying, rotting, just like us on the inside, just as our connection did, after he left. Beneath this tree, dark, falling apart, where only ravens stop to check for dead, I look over the town, with my hands shaking and a tear in my eye. Far away, the horizon mocks us, never allowing a glimpse of a new born life, a glance of hope to humanity. The sky is beyond our reach.
It seems unfair but when you put all of it together, when you really think about it, it makes sense. Secret societies plotting against their own, thinking themselves greater than others for their money and power. But what power is real power, is it destroying human lives, is it controlling human nature, stopping progress in society? Every failed attempt to live freely on this planet was schemed, planned before we were born. Now their all dead, in their own way, savages looking for flesh to replace their own. In the end, no money saved them, no power could hold it back, this disease that fell upon us and turned us into beasts. Maybe it didn't turn us, it just revealed them to us.
Beasts we were all along, dancing in a masquerade of inner demons, obsessing over little thing, interpreting what it wasn't there to interpret and ignoring that Nature, it all it's beauty and grace, was the real deity, was our goal in life. What existence has meaning if we continue to destroy what gave us birth, an opportunity to shine, to be a star? We've come too far and ruined too much to give a path to this being. I hear them coming, they've smelled my last whisper, I'll leave this conscience of mine and join them, not really dead, not really alive. I'll rot with this tree for the sins of humanity.
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