The Abandoned Place

There is a place I go everyday,
A place only I know of and can reach,
Belongs only to me and no one else.

Situated deep within unexplored forests.
The ones no one finds significant enough to be charted,
Where the trees are no longer thin.

Sitting in the centre of all and everything that I know of.

It is the core of me.

Made of stones, not known to anyone anymore.

Always looked past.
They are the ones that can't be broken anymore.

It is what remains in the end of it all.
Those are what makes this place so special and remarkable,

Atleast for me.

Dark thick vines,
Holding all the stones together,
Even after all this time,
Even though it's been doing it for so long,
Even before the structure started to break,

Ever since the beginning of it all.

Maybe it's far too broken to be repaired,
Maybe it's far gone to last much longer.
Merely held together by fragile vines as thick as a finger,

But maybe, just maybe after all these odds,

It's still worth it.

That is what makes it so beautiful and soothing to the soul.
Just it as what it truly is.
Not covered in corrections, tried to be perfected,

According to others.

I find a comfort there like nowhere,
A safe place among the ruins of the abandoned place.
Once considered perfect by others,

Now left to dust.

It is what remains.
It is where I go for comfort,
when I cant find it where I am,
which I never could.
It is what gives hope.

Even if it's all just in my head.

~sri~