Resentment

I despise the view of the setting sun,

and the twilight which soon follows.

I despise the way it slowly darkens,

then to mockingly show off its stars.

The auburn sky, blazing shameless,

red as though a warning for the end.

"As though?" It is signaling the end.

Of a day, of a life, of a time, of a place.

Both the same "blazing" color as the fire,

which destroyed all of what I held dear,

just as with the tomorrow not promised.

The crimson sun before me now,

blends to the flames of the past,

which both fully engulfed the sky.

Even the way it ends is the same.

Just as how the twilight fades,

the embers, too lose their tinge.

Shameless, distorted metals shine,

amongst the ash holding false hope,

as does the stars, surrounded by night.

“Oh, maybe this something survived-“

“Oh, no. It was just a dead star."