fauxcroft

Dark is the night,

As the dark planet rises,

With dark machines,

With sounds of roaring thunder.

Red lights blinking,

The hearts of the machines,

Made of metal,

Unable to gleam.

Iron material is the rock,

The mountains and the ground,

Unforgiving as the machines resound.

Echoes ring out through driving acid rain,

A planet of metal darkness reflects in my brain.

Never have I ever wanted light so much,

But this planet of metal machinary with its iron touch,

Knows nothing of light merely darkness and toil,

As it disappears among a turmoil, 

Of nebulae,

And cosmic gases, 

Lost in the mists of time and masses,

Of universal darkness it is lost in the gloom,

Heading of somewhere to a darkened doom.