Roots

Our district of emotion,
Incentive for recollection.
There’s no sense of direction.
Just cause for commotion.
This purposeless void,
sent from beyond our world,
it spreads like fire to the darkest parts of our brain.
Whispering; “Now the floodgates will open,”

Amongst the dust and echoes,
we lay our dreams.
Our hope’s fleeting trails of despair,
they beckon to us,
sobbing for our lies.

Where we waste away now,
nothing but barren planes.
Grass-less hills,
waterless rivers.

Find the cornerstones,
the roots our souls drink from.
Plant the explosives,
destroy the evidence.

The truth lies clear,
there’s no human here,
Not a fragment of sentience left.
Just deserted rubble and waste,
discarded carelessly across this world.
It silently begs us to change,
even as we take our last breath.
Determined to be born again.





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