It is the year where sky forgot blue,
Where trees are myths and grass untrue.
Cities stretch like steel-born gods,
But hearts inside beat with no odds.
Clones walk straighter than men once did,
Smiling soft with secrets hid.
They do not lie, they do not bleed—
Perfect servants to human greed.
No prayers now, no gods to call,
Just neon faith on a digital wall.
Churches are bars, mosques are screens,
Hope sold in pixelated dreams.
Rain falls black, with silver tint,
As if the sky forgot to rinse.
But still, it falls—gift or guilt?
A mercy from a heaven spilt.
The air is cold, but not from snow,
From silence, smoke, and things we know:
That love is rare, and trust extinct,
And touch is just a nervous link.
And me?
I walk the ashlight street,
My feet the last to feel this beat.
No god, no green, no truth to find—
Just broken stars in humankind.
It's about the future That's comming soon...
