Building this greater castle.
Made into a stoic fossil.
What do you get from it?
There is a greater risk
to what you do to yourself
than what you do to others.
In this pantheon you see.
That ruin of me.
Builds me up
to watch me fall
in your image.
Imagine a world
that is beautiful
but only as a painted scene.
We are blind masses,
made by the blinded masses,
seeing that people rise from it.
Unique and incredible creatures.
We will remember.
And all shall fall underneath.
There blackened hosts.
And what do you get
from this mortal's shell
and impersonal hail
that rains upon all
the people. What makes
us the same, is not the change
of guard, but the change of heart.
