A Torn Page, A Broken Tool
My feet hurt...
My entire core ached with tiredness... as I raised my head to the empty sky
Yes... empty, just like all once seen as beauty.
Beauty in itself despairs, that the end has come.
The rocky ground, filled to the brim with sand and tears, seemed to shed blood
Under my bruised and bloody feet.
Life in itself, has no meaning, in the light of the truth.
Yes... truth, the most painful thing in the world.
Innocents die because of the countless ridicule and oppression,
As I despair now, staring at the night sky, with a tearful gaze and shaking hands
How long? How long is it, before my flame goes out?
Yes... how long, ‘til all we knew is dead and gone?
The blood under my feet pulsed, as I fell to my knees,
The sight that beheld my reluctant eyes, seemed to rob me of the last lingering shred of hope.
How I wish...
My resolve is fading now, as I watch the world die,
The last one to die... despairs the most.
Yes... the last one, I was chosen... the purpose which I cannot fathom
Whether good or evil... my five senses cannot understand.
My eyes can’t see the fiery dawn of hope,
My ears cannot hear the voice of life,
My nose cannot smell, the scent of freedom,
My skin cannot feel, the warm draught of love.
Now, I ask myself... what I feel now... is this death?