your lust has only grown. Frozen - your heart is void of all that could be love. Your robes stained with the blood of the innocent poor. Widows and orphans
To be blessed with the curse of self-awareness? And to live in the joy of paradox and mystery. We won't be forgotten. To live, to die, to be reborn. (
In this age of fragmentation, selves suffer from atomism; and all horizons melt away. We pay homage to systems and lies that would steal our value,
still. What humanity truly fears is hidden in our insignificance. Our pride won't save us from this discovery. Where our minds end remains existence. The blood
consider them dead who can't already see the truth - after all this is war. Their value was lost once their minds willed to stand. Burning ashes. Awake Vesuvius