when you died no one screamed there was no calamity the dust had settled by the time i heard reports of your death they described it as tragic horrific unjust when really it was quiet peaceful more than you deserved it is hard to give up villainsthey say but i know you were not the hero they said you were not the saviour you claimed to be it is easy to blame the fire blame some unstoppable conflagration easier than to accept your death as a slow decay its cause human natural even you were fuelled by time until you ran out until there was nothing left to consume but yourself a sacred temple to forgotten gods left to rot in solitude to be dug up years from now and mourned only then mourned when no one who witnessed what you stood for no one who suffered at your hands is left the living will only know the myth of you and they will mourn in ways i never will and i wish i could let the flames christen you as a martyr but you’re not a saint and i am not your sacrificial lamb i will not burn by your side i will not burn i will find my own salvation elsewhere and it will be cold as the ruins you left behind.