Left Of Nevermore

Walking alone on the sombre streets of what once was,
among the mangled carcasses of trees that stand no longer,
I drown in tear drops, dripping from rusted faucets in the clouds.
My eyes strain to scan the bloodied horizon,
the dark scarlet sun, split in half and bleeding hard,
the silver moon in the distance, cracked and bruised,
the dull-lit stars mocking me from above-
and that is all.
The birds are nothing more than a memory,
the cats lay in solemn heaps,
the dogs have gone, their loyalty missed,
their love for us no more.
And I? Where have I gone? Where am I now?
I am here, walking, always walking,
alone and scarred from war.
The solar flares keep on coming, their colours keeping me whole,
the only thing I had no say in, no way to destroy.
I have truly nothing left but their wonder and galore.
Those flares are the only beauty now in our dead colourless world,
the flowers have all passed away, petals in the wind,
their beauty gone and lost forever, decaying like our battered minds.
Were we really so stupid when our past selves said the future was bright
when no one on Earth would dare fight? When no one saw the light?
Who dared to let the minority say, tell us the truth about our ways?
You know, we could have fixed the world, could have saved what remained,
what we had left in life, but no, oh no. Let the future deal with it.
So now I walk the twisted paths of fear, regret and shame,
I walk with bloody, twisted ankles, my mind is what I blame.
When the spirits scattered, the horror struck, we knew, of course, it was too late,
the stars were falling down and down, the moon, it shone so cold,
the birds fell with frozen wings, the smoke poured in hard.
The burning sun scorched and lashed, maiming with its claws,
my eyes were blinded evermore from truly seeing light.
And now,
now I walk this battered road, the road of no return,
it's the road of neglect, of fear, sorrow, the road of no tomorrow,
and said the raven, that famous poem-
-My soul shall be lifted, nevermore.
I am what you all are, no matter what you've done.
I am minority and majority, all share the shame fate
for we are I and I are we, our destiny conjoined.
What am I, you ask at last? What condemned soul do I be?
I am what murdered this planet, I am what bares the chains,
I am, as I've said before, the one within you all.
I am the spirit of man

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Tried a different style, I thought it would better convey what I wanted to write. This is about the fact that, whether or not we consider ourselves to be good people, we are all people, majority or minority, when this planet dies, all of us will pay. The only way to stop this fate is to get everyone to change their ways. It's a dream, but sometimes dreams are all we have.

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