On the day the world ends

I wear a crown

And you wear an eyepatch.

We sit on our roof and watch the

City burn.

The cockroaches put on

Party hats,

And the birds whistle the

Ending credit theme,

As they shake soot

From their feathers.

On the day the world ends

The sun screams as she

Melts into a purple sky.

The stars wink silver

And the moon weeps blue

Until all the colors

Blend together.

On the day the world ends

We all bleed the same.

I tell you that it's the most

Beautiful thing

I've ever seen.

You trace your finger along

The smoldering shingles

And write "I know"

Into the ashes.

We are a population of deceit with

Enslaved independence reigning

The dirty midst of

Narcissistic leadership hovers and

The air is stale with the taste of

Disunity severing our souls

Rot exhales across our lands and

Upon our flesh fresh with

Naive indifference, suctioning the

Warm pulse of life blossoming

The beat of singularity is felonious and

Critical thinking has been detained

Blinded by our despondent realm

The whites of our eyes are

Yellowed with the nicotine stains of

A dictatorship of monetary motivation

Hate growls like a frightened beast

Covered in mange and

Lurking in the tinted glass of our hearts

A chastised forest of mazes welcomes us

Poisoning us with a contagious rash of fear

Somewhere along the way

We tripped upon our own path

And reaching for unkempt nails

We resigned to their ascendency

The blood of our lost compassion

Rains down from Heaven weeping and

The angels burn like disoriented amoebas

Our dissipating freedom has been heckled

Following Judas into a mirage of

Defense for our humanity, drowned

The scratchy wool blanket of injustice

Has been pulled over our body of corpses

And we are comforted by its strict suffocation

We are seasoned to abide by

The exalted names in Leadership and

We will fall with mercy under your alien spell

We Earthlings know little of your species, and less of your history, so I am going to take a shot in the dark here. A shot through our sky to your ship, through the distance of biology and physics, to your minds. 

I think you are alone. 

As alone as we thought we were until today. Cosmically alone, profoundly alone. For why else would you be the first to find us, and why else would you appear in a single ship? 

Another shot in the dark, from my own experience: you tell yourself that this loneliness is freedom. Independence. You have a whole universe to explore!

But being alone is not being free. 

I think that you were looking for companionship, the way we all do down here, but on a grander scale. 

You had plans. You fantasized about how perfect we would be, how developed as a society. You did not plan to find the real us, with our flaws and wars and biases. And so, you have hesitated, hovering in our sky. 

I am here to give you a message: independence is not isolation. Independence is companionship. Independence is teamwork. We are not truly independent until we have supported someone else, lifted them up. And done this knowing that, someday, they will do the same for us.

And so, I implore you to lower your weapons and offer your help. You have found intelligence in this universe, and I beg you not to ruin the opportunities for friendship, companionship, and freedom that that offers. 

This is me, touch me.

The one with the touching hand is you.

If I need to be touched or if you need to touch me we're dependent.

But if I want to be touched by your hand that wants to touch me, then we're independent.

If you come with another and force me to be touched you're violent, more if I don't want to be touched.

If I put on a fight against that force, then i'll be a warrior, with the violent cause of not being touched by you.