movement three

What were the last words you spoke to me
Upon that hill blanketed by the hands of the blurry sky?
What was my inheritance as you left without warning
Seeking a warning withered and wily?
Your name still echoes off the walls of the tunnel
Where we watched the stars, still so far away
Descend and convalesce into humans
Only to inform us that their gods had all been slaughtered
Mirroring the fate they themselves would soon befall

On a scale of human to machine
How fallen are you?
You never had the pantheon’s favor
But at no point did they explicitly cast you away.
Next time you abandon humanity
And embrace the palette of gray-speckled clouds
Streaked with spirits screaming of sins
Could you drag me along as well to the end of the world?

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