When, my friend, was that line crossed?
Where pain’s avoided at all costs.
Where comforting is all I seek.
How such things have made me weak.
My wanting is a fleeting thing.
It’s never long before they bring,
Ever it is that I desire.
Of even this, I have grown tired.
Pulled myself from the muck,
With acumen, fate and luck,
And no regard from whence I came.
An origin I viewed with shame.
Contrary to, betrayal of,
My nature and it’s rule thereof.
I’ve come so far, reached such heights.
Continue on my climb, despite.
Despite the signs it’s getting late.
That a great fall for me awaits.
I sit atop a dying tree.
Denying what it is I see.
A tree I cut from its roots.
Disposed of them in my pursuit.
The roots that made my kind unique.
My god, my kind, has passed its peak.
God it seems was not enough.
A tale summarily rebuffed.
With this I’ve rebuffed so much more.
Those were my roots, that was my core.
A core I worked to hollow out.
A God-sized void’s the mark throughout.
I fill this void with anything.
And as such lost everything.
The ways of man, and the All.
Prepare, I must for the fall.
How far? I ask, somewhat dismayed. . .
“All the way. I am afraid.”
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