Twilight sings in purple and crimson
purple of the skies and the crimson of me
this was not the way I wanted it
but tragedy follows me, wanting me

So as newspapers do turn brown in sunlight
become brittle and not to be touched
this will be the end of my bitter life
for it has cut deep, humanities knife

Plummeting to my sweet mother earth
I will not feel the burning of fuel
by the time I do touch down
I will be already and utterly dead

See the glow the shatter light
know I did not go without a fight
see the machines picking up parts of me
to dispose in the bins of the forgotten


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris