The Living Memories Of A Dead City

self explanitary...

I stood here once

So tall

And proud,

Reaching my arms into

The frozen sky,

While my roots

Spread below,

Foundations of

The City of Joy.

 

But joy is dead

And so am I.

 

I sit

Hunched back

On this hump of earth

Broken and crumbling.

 

My towers

Once stroked the floors

Of heaven,

Now they slouch in drunken

Poses,

Like the folded,

Unconscious bodies

Of those

Who had one drink

Too many.

 

I once was a great city,

Now I lay

A crumpled skeleton

Of stone and steel.

 

Where are my people?

The happy beings

Who long ago

Walked my streets

And climbed my towers

To get a closer look

At the heavens.

 

They are all dead,

Though not buried.

Happiness and smiles

Ended long ago.

Now I am an empty wasteland.

 

Except…

Except there is one

Who still comes

To the cold blackness of

My darkest alleys.

 

But she is not of the smiling people

I once cherished.

No.

She is of a different race entirely.

 

She is a broken-winged angel.

Fallen from heaven

Or somewhere close.

 

She is black-eyed

And dark-minded.

 

But she is like me,

A crumbled version

Of an older

Beautiful self.

 

She is my daughter

Adopted into the deepest

Shadows of my collapsed

Frame,

And I will love her.

 

I swear.

 

Reviews

[Eira Anchor]

awesooooome. this is my fave chapter yet.
not sure i quite get what's going on in this "story". it's armageddon, right?