I spend my last day on earth enjoying the last bit of beauty it has to offer.
Sitting in the sunlight as the final nails are hammered into my coffin.
I accept my fate of damnation. I await it with anticipation.
The crows perch on the trees above, as if they could preconceive the spilling of my blood.
When I look into their faces.
I see the empty spaces.
The crows tore out their eyes.
Torn out before they could die.
My father had prepared a place for me.
Nailed to the wood of a rotting tree.
My father had prepared a place for me.
Placed upon my head. A crown of thorns.
All hail the king of the dead.
The fury of god strikes down upon the earth.
Marking the beginning of the planet's rebirth.
