The dawn of the apocalypse birthed a new day, 
Skies blue and purple like a smudged bruise
The catalyst possessed a burning heart of pain, 
But had a mind like honed ice
They strode with purpose to the tallest cliff by the bay, 
And into the clouds, 

They laughed 
Like God

In their eyes were desire and hate
Yin and yang, fire and frost
A war between the winter army and the soldiers of the sun, 
A war not won. 

Who were they again? They do not recall.
Is this world theirs? They’ve wholly forgotten—
All that they see is the hearts of the rotten,

Once made from love, 
But after all finished destruction

Still left with an undying dissatisfaction.
They scream to those that refuse to listen,
Tears tracing their cheeks that, in the sun, glisten:
They shout to the sea, which can only wave back,
And they beg, on their knees, for the hope that they lack.

Like a dead bird, they view the world
A creature of life that once flew
Now beaten and torn apart 
Its corpse exposed, fresh and new.
They are entropy, the demise of the earth:
Destruction and loss around them in a wide berth.
They used to love this place, but they adore it no more:
So they tear themselves down, hoping to soar.