Ashes, rubble, dirt and soil. All that is left is the aftermath of what happened. The kingdom overthrown, the castle crumbled, the gardens burned, the roads scattered. The rain seeps through our room, the fire lit the sky, the smoke clouds my home into thin air. And all there is to do left is pick myself up and stack these stones and build myself a new home. What once kept younger me alive and safe, now became a dormant castle, vulnerable to any threats. The bridge that led to exciting adventures now became a forest of darkness, the skies that our dreams soared high filled with fumes and thunder, the river that flows kindness and innocence now overflows of solitude and darkness. The town is empty, no more roads paved with sunshine nor house built on trust. The foundation of it all fall to its knees and I am yet again kneeling down bloodied. No one to blame because no one's left. No one to hold on to because no one cared. They left to save themselves. As they should. No one to stand guard to protect because the knights had met their Maker. No one. So what's left is me, what's left is to rebuild again. To begin again. It will be hard. Saying it's hard would be an understatement. Because it will be hard, terrifying and alone. But it is worth it. The solitude, the long lonely nights and the desolate days. It will all be worth it in the end. And when I reach that day, I'll think back, it wasn't all that hard but it wasn't easy either. It was worth it.
YOU ARE READING
this time i'll get better
Poetrysome short stories, self-proclaimed poems and presumptuous writings
