(The gloaming.)

Don't confuse us with goodness
Don't mistake us for something we're not
We are. There is no other explanation
For none can remember our names
Time has passed, whole lives have elapsed
And as our past recedes, so do memories fade
We are the forsaken.

The whole point of this is choice
To be made by we, those who refused it
Between obedience and arrogance
And for being so much like you
We were stripped, laid bare, wings shorn
To wait and decide our own fates
Like the rest of you.

Have you ever wondered why life is capricious?
Marveled at the beauty in cruelty
Hawks' wings spread on the thermals
While they eat their prey alive?
Ambiguity is its own kind of freedom
The choice is the thing
That betrays the consciences of kings
This is the Gloaming.