If we die, it will only be because
we didn't waste our lives in studies
of the darkest arts, alchemy and science
mixed in shifting and unequal parts
so that we could replace our hearts
with clockwork gears. Our eyes
with hardened scopes. Fill our veins
with sand, our crystal brains
with light describing endless
arcs, forever dimmed by hopes.
Instead, we lived in breath
and skin flushed rose,
by leaping blood
suffused with ruddy light
and lapping us within
like puppy nose. And so
we'll pass, because of choices
we made well, some time ago.
Back when it seemed quite good
enough to have one life,
then let you go.
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