Humans Being
The last strand of hope tears loose, the alarms swell,
A dirge for the living, the last of the stories to tell.Time itself warps,
refusing to flow in its usual line,
While night folds over us, unmaking every design.The sky weeps crimson,
washing the years in dread,
A shroud for every secret, every word left unsaid.The
ground quakes with the grief of a thousand undone sins,
As if even the dirt mourns for what might have been.
We’re caught in the crossroads, torn between panic and prayer,
Each heartbeat a verdict, each breath stripped bare.Once,
we built kingdoms on confidence, on reason, on pride—Now we’re all fugitives,
nowhere left to hide.Dreams become ash, ambition is fodder for ghosts,
Yet even as we break, we rehearse our old boasts.The cities go mute,
their arteries empty and still,
No engine whines, no neon sign—just quiet, just chill.
Beneath shattered steel and collapsed dreams, we look for connection—A single hand,
a single voice, a trace of affection.Ash
settles on the remnants of everything we knew,
And hope is a rumor, a wish for something new.The clock ticks louder,
a judge with no patience for lies,
Every second a wound, every minute a disguise.All
we can offer is what remains of our song,
A chorus of longing for a place to belong.
We hold onto each other, in the ruins, in the dust,
Knowing the only thing left is to love, if we must.Our fears tangle together,
inseparable, raw,
As the world crumbles around us—nature’s last law.There is beauty in the failing,
in how we refuse to let go,
Even as the sky fractures and rivers cease to flow.We touch for the last time,
eyes full of unshed tears,
Savoring the final seconds, the unspent years.
When the night falls hard and the end is in sight,
We choose not to cower, but to stand in the light.We claim these last moments,
no matter how brief—To rage, to love,
to whisper our grief.The end is not a thief—it’s a mirror held high,
Showing us what mattered, what we let pass by.And as silence sweeps in,
soft as a lover’s caress,
We know in the darkness, we were more than this mess.
So let the last breath be gentle, a closing of the eyes,
As we drift beyond memory, past sorrow, past lies.In the hush of the finish,
where shadows grow long,
We are humans being—flawed, brave, and strong.Not erased, not forgotten,
but imprinted in time,
The world ends not in violence, but in the echo of rhyme.We were here, we tried,
we loved and we sinned—In the end, only the living remain,
even as the world is thinned.Let the record show, in the void,
in the silence—That humanity’s last act was defiance.