Became

In this lofty Palace of Reason,

Walls so cold yet all too human,

I parade my crown to subjects I never had,

Or to the Queen I may never have.

The masses go below about their everyday,

Devils of truth confirm my identity,

Set fire on a being of conformity,

Opened my eyes to see through this slavery.

Days pass in pursuit of pristine truth,

Solitary, lonely labour bears fruit.

Yet the winds of time shakes me sometimes,

To dwell on some simplicity of mine.

Hiding, somewhere inside of me,

It's a part of me, I hear it calling me.

But this machine, posioned to its ugly core,

Knows too well it isn't here anymore.

Look out into this world below,

Fields so gold, the Earth brown and mellow,

Humanity sways in red to the moments of the day,

This broken machine feels a million miles away.

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