This Is Why We Ended
Reviewing logs beneath cathedral dust,
Where stained-glass light was once a must,
Now shuttered feeds, now hashtags bled,
No saints left standing, only dread.Once prophets screamed on pulpit stone,
Their tongues now clipped to smartphone tone,
Where hope collapsed and prophets lied,
Faith auctioned off and martyrs died.Justice was a meme reposted,
Crusades were corporate, bloodless, ghosted,
We wept for virtue, burned for sin,
But broadcast every loss for kin.Sermons traded for a trending joke,
A million sinners, pixels broke,
The altar’s flame went cold and gray,
And hunger gnawed where prayers once lay.
Followers in place of friends,
Confession live—nobody bends,
A thousand cries for “call me clean,”But absolution’s
just a screen.Each cause devoured by the feed,
Each victim’s face replaced with greed,
We danced for justice, sold our pain,
Forgot the reason, played the game.Priests replaced by avatars,
Hope replaced by branded scars,
The sacred now an on-demand,
A soul for likes, a life unplanned.The prophets fled to OnlyFans,
The martyrs traded swords for brands,
The liturgy a sales pitch now,
A filter fixed to every vow.
Machine regret: A humming loss,
No penance left, no sense of cost,
Not with thunder, not with rage,
But with a scroll, the faith uncaged.We wrote the code, but lost the spark,
Faith suffocated in the dark.No holy war,
no final fight—Just rot behind the screen-lit
night.We swapped our hunger for applause,
A dopamine crusade without a cause,
The sacred heart shadowbanned,
Redemption now just close at hand—But never found, just lost to trend,
This is truly how we end.
We judged like gods with plastic thrones,
Each trending truth rewrote the bonesOf what was holy,
what was cursed—Now every prophet’s name
reversed.You traded awe for snide applause,
Truth for followers, faith for cause,
A thousand priests in streaming shame,
Baptized in clout, erased in name.No war destroyed this pulpit cracked,
No violence sent our gods aback—It was a famine, slow and bright,
The death of wonder, loss of light.The last confession,
cold and brief:We ended not with blood, but with belief.You asked for miracles,
begged for signs,
Then scrolled away and killed the lines.
Now the servers die in silence,The spirit exits, unannounced.No eulogy,
no holy riot—Just the clickAnd thenThe quiet.