Rotting Throne

There were many people who fell that day. I was not one of them. But then the rest started to break, like aged puppets. I was not one of them.
But then I looked around at the residue. Straying souls, empty bodies, black eyes, and the smell of lost hope in the air.
One person pushed their self over the edge, to fall and to break. Like an aged puppet with broken strings. But it was not just a puppet, it was a marionette.
That person was me.
I fell to fix the cruel sadness. And I came back. We all did.
But we had forgotten.
Never forget your scars. They will grow. You will forget to heal them, mend them. And so they grow. Grow. Grow. Grow.
They grew. Grew. Grew. Grew.
And again, many people started to fall. A second time. The rest to break. A second time. But I was not either of them.
They were imbeciles.
I stayed on my throne. Ruled all of nothingness.
Then the impossible happened...
I started to rot. Rot. Rot. Rot.Rot. Rot. Rot.Rot. Rot. Rot.Rot. Rot. Rot.Rot. Rot. Rot.Rot. Rot. Rot.Rot. Rot. Rot.Rot. Rot. Rot.Rot. Rot. Rot.Rot. Rot. Rot.Rot. Rot. Rot.Rot. Rot. Rot.Rot. Rot. Rot.Rot. Rot. Rot.Rot. Rot. Rot.Rot. Rot. Rot.Rot. Rot. Rot.