Decay (Age 20)

A figure sits atop a stooping rusted crane overhanging a neverending plane of blood and concrete under a dark quilt of infinity.

The sky twinkles back through the ages.

The figure, its limbs sprawled over the icy giant, regards the space above it and wonders if there's any place up there in the endless black divide where it can travel, to be forgotten and never missed, a whisper once spoken by the tongues of many but never again remembered throughout the universe.

A blot on the great expanse of history, just soundless words on a stranger's lips that no one understands.

And the earth and its offspring are the only things which knew of its being.

The figure shed tears which disappeared as soon as they dropped, as if they never were.

As soon as this, the figure leaned over and plummeted through the sky, millions of voices in the wind screaming out as the last drops of kindness leaked out of existence, the final cry of a dying breed, still shedding tears for what has become.

And when it crashed to the earth, a thousand tonnes of hot steel bleeding through our eyes, it burst into dust, a light stain on the earth. It whispered on the wind for a moment and was quiet.