Skeleton

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Forgotten, lost, courtyards remain standing.
Their stones forbid sound, breath, life.
Yet the wind blows, the grass grows.
When the sun creeps up, shadows creep down
And the dormant water warms.
The heat is insufficient to the vast ruins
That spread thick arms, reaching
For society that long ago abandoned
Its riches, its history, its home
All for the fear of malice and shed blood.
Now echoes remain of greatness
Or perhaps meager existence –
Only observation can tell for sure.
But no one searches, and no one finds
What has been long forgotten.





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razorzRpainful said...
Sept. 23, 2009 at 3:15 pm
amazing something...people dont usually write about...
 
Dokidoki-rin This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Sept. 23, 2009 at 11:49 am
Beautiful poem. Ruins, cool as they are, can be so sad sometimes too. whenever a house gets torn down i think "who lived there? who slept there and had birthday parties and had a family there?"
 
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