Silos

Children,
See silent monuments,
Or rocket ships to the moon.

Strangers,
See picturesque beauty.
The townspeople see the truth.

Accusing,
Skeletal fingers of fate,
Entombing the town within their grasp.

Mocking,
The teeth of the Gods,
Who laugh wholeheartedly at mans’ fate.

Empty,
Like the promises,
Of the future that will be.

Forlorn,
Tombstones to the stars,
With no inscription or name.

Hopeless,
A bums’ toothy grin,
Lost in a sea of wrinkles.

Encircling,
A white picket fence,
From which none can escape.

  • Photographer, Programmer, Writer. Retired from the first two. Introvert. Formally worked for Nautilus Sports Medical Industries (when they started). Visit my website for more details. Working on two different sets of fictional novels.

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