End. Mourn. Nothing born.
Author's Note: Enjoy the poem and R&R.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to or of the Digimon series.
Summary:
Negamon craved all, but what it really craved was so little.
Every beginning has an end. Every end, a new beginning
But there is an end that annuls. That eats. That blinds instead of dimming
An eraser of all. Of everything existing and yet to be
Paralyzed of living. Hungering to get dying
Gone with no new beginning. The time when it may vanish from the worlds. Full stop
Whitened to irretrievable nothingness. Echoing its thirst to rub itself off the page
Not even dragged and dropped in the bin
There won't be a bin. No desktop. No cursor to click
Nor Digi-Egg to crack
End. Mourn. Nothing born
Caped in necessary war. The counterbalancing disasters
The eyes that see too much
Yet demand so little
Simply: The ability to perish
The dignity to choose its cessation
Rather than the horror it exposed itself to
An open application on the screen
Untouchable. Unstoppable. By Ctrl+Alt+Delete
Shielded from that grace cross freeze
What all humans and Digimon possess
Except this one – to this no one's deep-rooted sorrow
Looping. Lagging. Lost. Lonesome
It computed that by putting an end to everything
It could disconnect itself from its unnatural continuance
Finally cut from the seclusion of its mutated installation
The Eclipse Gnawn
The teeth which squeezed it
The monster on its brain
"I fear. I feel pain. I consume. I consume pain."
The best and worst farewell the Chosen Children could give Negamon
Courage, friendship, sincerity, knowledge, love, purity, light, and hope overflowing
Silver to alter its path (ALL RECOVER)
To make it out. Go through the future
Was the relief to die and the scary yet unbound potential of being born again