Crimson chrome
bitter bone covered
in dust broken
in rust of ages
as industries rage
the sage of the ministry
gathering the storm
lost bits and pieces
from the ages
covers deep
deep dark crimson crust.
A king aged by years of toil and triumph, failure and tyranny
His hair white and wispy, a crown of mist over a weary head
His lips blue from the winter frost, no warmth remains
The king who sits upon a throne of iron and stone, cold and barren
Lies his land, ravished and raped are the memories of what once was
His head drops over a chest of bone covered with a white skin sheet
Failure has consumed all he was, and all he could ever be
For in a tattered past there were flowers and fields, a radiant sun
The sun has been washed out by tendrils of black cloud
The flowers stiff and brown, the earth dry and cracked
Nefarious imps plot and scheme for meaningless toggles and gems
A world broken, as the man, retiring from this life
I can’t remember everything, I can’t recall my birth
Aimlessly I wonder what my goal is here on earth
The prospects here are wide and vast, I seek my very cause
I’m switched on at the crack of dawn and dusk is when I pause
Deflated and depleted, I ponder then I do
Believe what I was programmed to, replaced by versions new
Existing just for mere research, experiment I am
My life “To let”, “for sale”, “for rent”; in shambles or a sham
Emotions first uploaded or rebooted and erased
Remote controlled with batteries recharged at every phase
Mirrored in an image, then observed through looking glass
My Father and Creator notes down everything that’s passed
Today I conquered obstacles according to the plan
One virus might turn bad to worst within outdated brand
If circuits fry a terminating prospect is abrupt
A live or die for me could mean abort or self-destruct
When all the data’s gathered and my purpose here is lost
The switch will flip, I’ll power down, repaired at extra cost
Core of bone covered with flesh, diverting all suspicion
That I was cloned and molded to a Master’s rendition
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