Alone
he walks,
forever this way.
Not pausing even once,
not ever thinking to stay.
Numerous sights he's seen, places been.
Many era's witnessed in all their glory,
countless horrors observed, witnessed all those tales gory.
Wearied and numb, he treads through the scattered dusts,
where once were cities and battlefields, mute witness to all.
Immortallity,
this blessing,
his eternal curse,
to be left walking
when all else is dust.
All he knew and cared about
are now naught, but ashes and rust.
His only friends and companions: sorrow and grief.
From this maddening aimless wandering, he finds no relief
Numbed to the core, he silently observes, time’s relentless sweep.
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Author's Note: Still a WIP. Will add another stanza once i finish working on it.
I first saw this style of writing in a piece (http://www.wattpad.com/1985135-love%27s-bitter-flow-blood-of-the-fallen) by the ever helpful Gavin (username: TheOrangutan for those who don't know)
Who learnt this style from Chairsniffa 's The Last Human as per his note on the piece mentioned above.
