Feeding blue to a world I explored,
“Will it always be like this? Hmm…”, I implored.
Watching the dew drops dwindle down a dusty doomsday,
I stared at the mirror above, “What would mom say?”

The fiery breeze, cremated the corpses;
The hum of the billions persist, just like mosses.
A lonely soul grazing the sole patch of death,
I give up, only to hear the faintest of breaths.

– Ted