broken plastic dolls.

endgame.

A storm is coming.

One drop, three drops, a hundred drops, I wonder who's crying.

Thunders, but why are they echoing from the abyss?

Rain, but why is it so silvery, so opaque?

Lightnings, shattering on the dirty sand, rising from the depth of the ocean;

bolts of electricity, melting the frosted substance that has been there for centuries,

an ivory path appears on the shores of this so-called "world", the end is near.

Two drops, four drops, a thousand drops, it hurts.

I watch the pale entity corrode my livid skin, I taste it on my lips, is this blood?

I swallow that clear fluid, I think I'm gonna throw up. It's like eating liquid gold, blue gold, it's like if I'm digesting it all, as it deteriorates me from the insides.

It tastes like salt, why would plastic taste like that? Am I paying for a murder I didn't even know I committed?

A voice speaks, maybe I'm insane. But it keeps saying it, over and over again.

"Welcome, to the end game"

Three drops, five drops, a million drops, I don't want to die.

It starts filling my mouth, sins I didn't know I made crawl down my back, an endless number of mistakes creeps up my plastic brain, help me please, I scream...

But nobody comes.

Four drops, six drops, a billion tears

I cough more white blood, sour tears fall down my blue irids, oh, now I know who's crying.

I stand there, unable to move, the sound of a dying ocean comes to my ears, and it sounds inhumane.

I can hear them shouting, but their suffocated screams can't pass through it no longer, is this how a telling sounds? Like an harmony of inhumane human cries?

Each one of us coated in the dirty thick substance that will soon poison the world, no, it already has.

I look around, but I can't see anything, I feel the pressure of more and more drops falling on my eyes. Maybe that's the reason I've been blind for so long.

I blink once, twice, three times, people say white is such a pure, immaculate color, but is it really?

Memories of my past, I don't think there will be a future. Plastic beings, walking in a plastic world, living in their plastic minds, stumbling around like broken plastic dolls, it's all they are, it's all we are.

I breathe in this chemical oxygen, it runs in my veins, it ruins them. An evolution process that's been on since forever, ended by a plastic mentality, maybe we never evolved, maybe we went backwards.

Only humans could drown the ocean.
And now it's too late.

Because the storm is coming,

and it's coming for us all.