October 5, 2009
By Meixly SILVER, Brookline, New Hampshire
Meixly SILVER, Brookline, New Hampshire
9 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
Little moth, let's burrow.
The cacophonious shudder of your wings
slits the flesh of the decaying tome.
Have you the slightest inclination?
Your nature be of the mellowest sorrow.

The cold,
dull, stillness
settles in the thriving wounds.
Metallic ghosts shrivel up
along the sides
of the once-lively streets.
Phantom derricks deny their futility,
drawing dust and stone from the
thinning Earth.

Hollow proclamations
wrap the empty remnants in
whisking feeble souls
over the rotten debris
and broken steps.

At the bottom of an
empty ocean,
an ashen tree waits.
The last drops of life
feed the starving veins.
Mother Earth has clung to
this tree, doing all she can
to save it.
To save herself,
her planet.

...what was her planet.
To save your planet.
You resist her.
You tear her leaves
and eat her creatures,
weakening the only one
who can save you.

And now,
you've got what you fought for.
Her last hope is in heaps
of ash on the dead surface.
She’s gone now.
You're on your own.
Best of luck.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.


MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!