A vision of Paradise Lost

I've seen silhouettes of angels with burnt wings, comdemned to walk the path of the fallen in all their pain. I've seen their skin full of scars and open wounds, and their broken bones and bleeding cuts. I've seen the fields of grief. There was no grass, only dust and ashes, and lakes made of blood of the brave and the glorious, who fell in a battle which wasn't theirs to fight. I've seen wooden crosses scattered all over the floor, most half-buried by the sea of cinders that swallowed the pride and the strenght of those who will half-live forever. I've heard the screams of the silenced ones and it filled me with such emptiness that I couldn't even feel a thing. They begged for a spot on the boat of salvation, which was long gone... I felt the rain of tears of the innocent, who thought they lost everything, but they never really had nothing, nothing except their worthless innocence that would unconsciously slow them down wherever they would crawl to. I've seen the bloodthirsty beast, prowling after the children of light, who naively played among the shades of their deceased parents.
There I stood, ruthlessly watching this picture of paradise lost. And as I saw it, The Maker saw it too long ago. And in His uncomparable perfection He realised something was wrong with the picture. He couldn't have created it, cause He was so fucking perfect, so fucking brilliant. He couldn't have such aberrations for children, such torn place for home... So He took His boat and disappeared, sparing our half-lives for something He so fucking tenderly called "love", as if even He knew what that was... Without saying goodbye, without looking back, He abandoned us, left us all alone to rot, thinking He was so fucking merciful...
As I look at the picture and I see what He saw, hear what He heard and feel what He felt, I start to realise some things myself...
No justice in life, no dignity in death. We're born in an illusion, a search for a lost cause, and die ignoring the truth which stood right before our eyes all the time. We try to deny it, we kick and scream in a "no-tomorrow" frenzy. Cause we're too weak, too small to accept or even to understand any part of this chaotic path that only goes backwards. And there are no directions, no maps, only bumps in the road. And you're the best roadkill for the faceless, they keep knocking you down, and then they go over you, again, and again, and again, until you start bleeding and gasping for air. And they began a killing spree, so they come back for you. They won't leave you alone until they send you to your last home, the one where you'll spend the eternity shaking, crying, alone and afraid. And there's no hope for you, not for me, not for anyone. We're doomed from the start, from the first day we step in this unholy ground. And we didn't ask for this. We are forever and forever we are cursed with this half-life of half-accomplishments...