Fallen Kingdoms

We are creators

We could build cities with our thoughts.

Civilizations carved from tears shed and blood dropped.

Garnered in the fruit of our creation.

The trees of the kingdom would be filled to abundance with dreams and hopes. Trapped with the sweet flowing juices of apples and berries. Our minds hold palaces and princesses.

They make glass towers and the delicate wings of monarch butterflies.

That fly above our towers to the promised land.

We are believers

We believe in the creations we make. We believe in the gentle streams and rivers of our imagination. Flowers, bees, and love.

Purity and sweet nectars that collide with the budding desires within us.

But alas just as we create these lands, we also destroy them.

As storms wash over our brains and cloud what was once bright.

We are slaves

We get stuck in the dungeons.

We fall beneath the water.

We are chained to the rocks on the shore

Barren and idle become our promise lands.

Without a shred of hope.

The leaves wilt and the wings of the butterflies are crushed under magnitudes of thundering decay.

We are hopeless

Nothing can stop the darkness once it has emerged.

Nothing can cross its path without meeting its doom.

We are a paradox

What beauty we can create but how easily we destroy it.

With the waves of mental despair crashing on the shores, nothing can end the darkness.

Not dreams, nor desires, nor hopes.

The monsters know us too well.

And inside out we rot

With the screams of our people and as our cities turn to ruins we collapse.

Fogged by uncertainty and drowning in self doubt

We are left as feeble creatures sealed by the darkness

What once was utopian is now dystopian.

Lifeless and loveless

We have fallen