we stand in our own ashes
we, the broken ones
and here we are
surrounded by an empire of memories
who watch on, like
untoppled gods
i
am dying
and so are you
what is left of
us now?
what do your mortals think,
as they look on?
we must look so
very
fragile
there is only one left
one precious
little
human
will he die too?
everyone can
see
our private moments
and
i hate them for it
do we not deserve
our secrets?
kill me.
kill me, and it
ends.
finality is descending
far more an enemy to you
than me
or the time lords
will you humour me,
my dear?
it's only
one button
staring you in the face
look at death.
laugh.
isn't it
funny?
this is the end
or so they say
i say, this is one
of many
staring at me, you are
in a billion
different
shards of a moment
one word:
no.
hell, as you say
has descended
and yet the only demons here
are our own
we are dying
from millennia-old
wounds, ones that
no healer
can fix
in another world
one we call
reality
you whisper to me
and through the cracks
of this waking nightmare
for the first time in so long
i hear you.