I saw the stars convulse not with beauty, but with judgment. Twelve beasts rose from the dark, each wearing the face of a forgotten god. Lyra weeps from frozen air, Orion walks with broken flair. Hydra coils around the moon, and Pisces hums a dying tune. Virgo drowns in holy light, Scorpio prepares to bite. Sagittarius loads his flame, and Leo roars - but not in shame. The sky a courtroom. The void a choir. The stars a verdict. And we… the fire. Burn, constellations, burn! Let truth crawl out of lies! Let Libra break her scales apart, and Taurus gore the skies! No angels here, no whispered peace just echoes made of bone. We are the last astronomy, and we die alone. Gemini split and fled in fear, while Cancer dreamt it wasn’t here. Capricorn stomped across the graves, and Aries laughed between the waves. Aquila dove into the black, while Phoenix screamed but won’t come back. Vela’s sails were torn by sin, as Corvus whispered, “Let them in.” Twelve that burn, and twelve that fall! Let darkness flood the hall! We’ve stitched the stars to broken skin, and called it hope through all. There’s no return from holy rage no grace, no second sun. We climb the sky with bleeding hands and sing… we are the ones. The zodiacs spin out of place, teeth and flame in every face. No silence left, no god to blame just us, and stars without a name! The choir breaks! The heavens split! Time folds in and won’t admit We begged the light to make us whole… but made a throne of blackened soul! And when the war of stars was done a breath. A note. One single tone. The last… alone.
