Welcome to the bottom of the rabbit hole.
Here lies Babylon dead and gone,
but you can have it all if that’s what your after.
Though I don’t think it will matter when it shatters on the ground.
Never have I, ever, made or heard a sadder sound.
Still, to the victor go the spoils so I didn't uproot and move
I ripped my brain stem from the soil.
Now with little to no relevance withering pedals of pestilence represent my intelligence, I fell against this hellishness to find myself comfortable and content.
I wonder what it all meant, as I sit amidst the madness I had this vision of slinking back into the blackness, like the light is too bright for me, but it just so happens the darkness wrongfully longed for me.
Alas my past filled up so fast; Hot breath on cold glass.
So I continue sitting in my throne of obsidian tapping my pitch fork on my thick horns and rubbing my reddened skin.
Searching for something to say to them and then, all thoughts of this onslaught stop when a voice rings
"Thank you, for all the tar and featherings, you have given me my angel wings."