For it was not the leaves who asked faster,
No. They joked with time in little passing,
Did I ask for my life to be taken away?
Should I give myself to time for better life?
Let God decide where my road falls short to fall,
So never find me weeping in a mess to know,
The art is gastric so my stomach shall implode to sink,
The mink I wore is now simple and plain. As am I.
>Now I see my clones walking around, dancing like bots;
Now, they’re the real me. I am a shade of code to compile,
If not my soul, then least my logic shall least decompile,
Nor never have I sung the words divine, in heavens soon
So divine. But I lack the love to hurt me more to live,
For I never sought the one to challenge me lest I the same,
Now give me grief I had no adventure to survive,
If I were dead now, I will be awoken now to danger revive.