A Merciless silence washes over the two
thoughts, abandoned
words, deserted
voices, swept away by the ever accurate winds of Autumn
"what have you done?" he finally whispers
"the people, changed. Faceless, without names. what hatred could you house, to leave a world without hope of rehabilitation?"
"i have none" she answers calmly, no possibility of reading her face. her tone, emotionless.
"i see," he attempts to mask his lack of understanding with false arrogance, "and what of you? what will you become? a hollow old wretch?"
"what is left for me to become?" her question hung in the air, unanswered, to remain in its current state, now and forever more.
to all readers; if confusion befalls you in response to my poem, i can relate. i have no idea what this poem means, nor do i have a reason for writing it. the words just spilled out of me.
