Save us.
Save us. Won't anybody save us? We cry, we howl, we sing, but the world keeps
moving on. But we remember.
We remember the day we watched as our countrymen left us behind, to rot. We remember that day.
And the next day. And the next. Years. Countless years of reliving that memory; a stain like
a cancer with no blade to remove it. We served faithfully, we fought honorably,
we did everything right; yet when we returned as worn and scarred as
we were, we were cast out. "We do not love the broken," they said.
'Broken?' we thought. Broken pieces shatter on the floor; broken
wings, bend and wilt- they don't fly anymore. Broken promises on hopes held high; broken
stars; no longer dancing in the sky. Broken dreams and nightmarish nights -not sleeping,
you see, has become a difficult thing to fight; broken words on tongues not held, all remain
empty - us prisoners with no cell. Broken hearts and dreamless eyes, broken thoughts
and broken lies. Broken, broken, broken is it all...yet this place is so tiny, it no
longer stands tall. Everything is broken, down to the pieces shattered on the floor;
broken we lay- we couldn't take it any longer, not anymore.
We hated ourselves. What purpose did our lives have, if not to
fight for the Empire? What meaning did our souls contain, if we were sent off as heroes
but returned to be greeted as deplorables? Save us.
Save us. Won't anybody save us? We cry, we howl, we sing, yet the world keeps
moving on. Among the bodies of the ruined and departed
we were banished and forgotten. Wandering the corpseyards, we searched for salvation,
for meaning, for respite. Suffering had our hearts in pieces, we wanted
to run and hide, but we couldn’t run away from ourselves and escape all our demons inside.
We were left without justice, we were left without peace. We were left in the corpseyards,
but we knew this pain would not cease. We covered every blemish, abandoned every
last dream; maybe if we lost ourselves, we would not want to scream.
Stumbling around, not getting anywhere. Lost in despair, lost in grief.
Stumbling in circles, not waking up from this dream. Lost in our thoughts, lost in our past.
Stumbling to helplessness, not able to heal our hearts. Lost in emotions, lost in anguish.
Stumbling to nowhere, not knowing how to rise up. Lost in our sorrow, lost in our guilt.
Stumbling to decline, not knowing how to break free. Lost in confusion, lost in delusion.
Stumbling to distress, lost with the demons. Stumbling to nothing, lost in our torment.
Stumbling to disorder, not knowing how to fight back. Lost in the chaos, lost in the
fury. Stumbling to agony, not knowing how to change
course. Lost in a big mess, lost in silent wounds.
Stumbling to destruction, not knowing how to stand tall. Lost in seclusion, lost in
disillusion. Stumbling to extinction, not caring where
we end up. Lost in devastation, lost in ruination. Save us.
Save us. Won't anybody save us? We cry, we howl, we sing, but none respond
to our call. The overwhelming silence of the corpseyards
was driving us mad. Treading over the decaying and deceased bodies
of our brothers and sisters, their voices taunt our minds. "You speak as a slave,
you are our tool. A means to an end.
Nothing more, just a fool. You live for our acceptance
Though it's never been withheld You crave our direction
because you will not rebel. We are the Empire
"We" is the meaning of perfection We are your everything
We are magnificence We are fair and righteous
And yet you seek more Dare you grow capricious?
You'll become the one we abhor. You are confused
And we will not calm you You'll never leave us
But we'll abandon you You'll always need us
And we'll never need you Our grip is vice-like
We're not ready to let you go But we are your salvation
We are your executioner And we are your redemption
You wish us dead forever You wish us dead, we know
And you wish yourselves dead When away we finally go." Our brothers and sisters laughed, echoing
all throughout our mind. We remember their faces all too well. Mocking
us, for being too imperfect to be accepted. Taunting us, for never knowing the feeling
of love. We remember each day that has passed since
our exile to the corpseyards, and look back in disgust and shame.
Each step we take marks another towards no discernable goal, no enemy to fight, and no
purpose of being. A journey with no reason for beasts with no
nation. We cry, we howl, we sing, and the heavens
listen to our call. A greyish-blue angel descended from the skies on golden wings of bone and
wire, and beckoned to us with an arm much longer than the other.
Gazing up, we asked: "Can you take this mess of us?
Can we forget all we knew? Can we be built up again?
Can we just belong to you?" The angel looked down at us and smiled.
"I will make you beautiful, I will make you whole.
I shall give you purpose, I shall give you soul.
You have been searching for one to find, but never thought yourselves to be blind.
The power of three belongs to thee, why will you not allow yourselves to see?"
We broke down in tears. In the winter afternoons of the corpseyards,
those shortest days of indeterminable longevity, those words received offer little, yet stand
for so much. A mortal transcript of pain immortalized by gold, relief will yet be, we look at the
angel, the heavens, and have only one desperate plea: We remember the luster of our home,
the love of our kinsmen, and the pride of our Empire. We look now at what remains of
us, and we have but only one thought: Envy.
