The world was loud with pleading hands,
With prayers that cut like knives,
Every cure became a wound,
Every birth stole other lives.
We fed the fire, named it hope,
Let it swallow land and sea,
Till even mercy learned to bleed
From too much cruelty.
Maybe ending is forgiveness,
When the pain won’t let us heal,
When the future only learns
To sharpen what we feel.
Not every light should burn forever,
Not every song be heard—
Sometimes extinction is mercy,
The kindest final word.
We taught the young to carry sins
They never chose to earn,
Built thrones from bones and called it law,
Watched the heavens turn.
The earth grew tired of screaming names,
The sky forgot to cry,
And silence waited patiently
For us to understand why.
Maybe ending is forgiveness,
When survival is a curse,
When every dawn repeats the lie
That tomorrow will be worse.
Not every story needs a sequel,
Not every wound a cure—
Sometimes extinction is mercy,
Clean, quiet, and pure.
To let go is not surrender,
It’s the last remaining grace,
To stop the wheel of suffering
Before it grinds all space.
If all we leave is endless harm
Etched into time and stone,
Then mercy wears the face of night
And calls the stars back home.
Not every life must claw for more,
Not every world endure—
Sometimes extinction is mercy,
And mercy means no future.
