black omen

you built citadels in skies

to fake your own rise.

you tore fire from horizons

to steal your own red.

you cast your vigilance,

the worms claim

their dead.

standing on high with fate--

have we illuminated grace?

the blackest omen yet.

i saw it coming in your signal fires,

as the rich grew richer

and the poor expired.

there's a purity in form,

and so i questioned

the dichotomy in our

own essence.

but if i ever saw it,

if i ever knew its name,

then i know it's coming--

three hands on a single face.

and we were kings upon that,

we were kings on that day.

we were brothers in arms

from the print of your mandate.

in all, we fall

faltered and in course

altered.

opportunist,

this is your mess.

come danze di liberta.