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The welkin disappeared. There is no horizon.
The sun, the primeval mother, abandoned us.
It despairingly burns behind the shroud,
the pervasive shroud of the deathly ash.
The orphaned nature, the last vital sign,
fades out in the shadow, burying the old vivid earth.
I knew that even light needs darkness to shine,
but learnt that every darkness always kills the light...
Heavy clouds went grey and down,
crushing lungs with acid air.
This isn't home!
This is the civilization's grave.
This place smells of grimness and fear.
The great vigil of the pending extinction.
Words spat out from the prophet's mouth,
always tasted so dire, now taste so familiar.
Heavy clouds went grey and down,
crushing lungs with acid air.
This isn't home!
This is the civilization's grave.
Wean off being "human" with every single breath.
We perish in a concrete gas chamber,
inhaling the self-prepared fate!
Black visions went real, more real than we'd thought.
We were born as free men bur the world we have forged
negates the perfect plan and forces us to crawl.
Life - death's hybrids slouching around.
Prosopagnosia? Everywhere same blurry faces.
Faces hidden behind the masks - the failed escape.
Masks saving life or just protracting the end...
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