The Lost City

Screams echoing through

Empty hallways, crude barricades

The only defense –pathetic-

Against the onslaught of

Red-hot, burning lava.

It didn’t come without warning,

Oh no, they had warning.

They just couldn’t act on it,

Too poor to move, leave

Behind everything they have

Worked for and everything

They have just accepted as a

Fact of life. The great mansions

Are deserted, the richest having

Fled, abandoning the city

To seek safe harbor elsewhere.

But there were some,

Some who refused to leave their

Memories and life at the

Shot of a warning gun.

And so they still crouch,

Alone forever simply because

They couldn’t leave, indents in

The settled ash and hardened lava.

The dust collects on top of little

Boys whose mothers tried to

Shield them. And so they died

Beneath the safely of their mother’s

Arms, a not-quite-deserted city

And bodies whose family

Have forgotten about. So all that

Is left in this equation, I suppose,

Is a lost and harshly abandoned

City whose very inhabitants shudder

And awaken in their dreams, trapped

Under layers of dust and discarded memory.

The End

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