"It wasn't my fault", I said,

"When the flowers died,

When the meadows were wilting

And the waterways dried.

"It was theirs", I recited,

Seeing the dead in their homes,

Mourning souls of the living

They'd let live alone.

"It wasn't mine, it was them.

Someone other than me."

I cried to the sky

As the Earth felled her trees.

The sky and the meadows,

And the fires grew black.

The world, it was fading;

There was no going back.

But the tears, they kept falling.

I was just so inept,

It was hard to believe this.

I couldn't accept it.

It was them. With their chariots

And coal-coloured stallions.

Their arrows and bows

Soaring o'er their battalions.

I was empty. A hole.

I couldn't conceive it.

Though I knew it was true,

I wouldn't believe it.

The afterlife. An empty void

To those lacking a belief.

Many fools accepted it,

Yet it brought them only grief.

"After the water, the fire and blood,

All that is left is decay.

It was never real. None of it was.

We forever fade away."