We are the unfortunate ones,

The ones forged by ash and claimed by fire,

The ones whose whispers they hear as they dance through the blood red sky,

The ones fated to remember when everyone else strives to forget.

* * *

We can’t kiss the night away with sugary lies and velvet lips,

Or let wayside dreams become reality.

The unfortunate ones are not unfortunate because we can’t forget,

But because we can only remember,

* * *

The way things fell apart in a world trying to come together,

The way cruelty rose when humanity fell,

And the way illusion was our new reality.

We lived in the illusions that that others created,

Unaware of what was real and true.

* * *

Humanity is fruitless.

Humanity is weak.

Humanity is vulnerable.

They say these things, but we don’t believe them to be true.

But how can we reject the reality that’s right in front of us?

How can what we see be different from what they see?

* * *

They enforce, we deny.

We suggest, and they deny.

They speak, we remember,

We speak, they forget.

* * *

Our knowledge is a weapon,

Forged by the ashes we’re created by,

Strong as the fire that claims us.