Misanthrope

Walking in ruins
His knowledge in pain
For all he had fought against
Now has been lost in triumph

He fed in need for stuggle
From the spinal of calm perfection

“Nothing, nothing mattered, and I knew why. So did he.
Throughout the whole absurd life I'd
lived, a dark wind had been rising toward me from somewhere deep in my future, across years that were still to come, and as it passed, this wind leveled whatever was offered to me at the time, in years no more real than the ones I was living.“ - "L'Etranger" by Albert Camus

He claimed for years uniqueness
With rage destroyed in vain
For leaves can’t live
In the absence of trees
And trees will die
In the need of their leaves

Ah! For what he stand
All these years
Did only exist to our world!
For all he had fought against
Now has been lost in triumph

He achieved all goals amongst us
Amazed he found out that
It didn’t matter
Once humanity is lost
Nothing ever mattered
Nothing ever had value