A white sidewalk on a hot summer day, two twins were standing care-free in their ways. In their hands was a paper, old and beat, that kept the twins safe from lie and deceit.
When suddenly from the east, a strong wind blew by, that carried the paper into the sky.
They ran.
Attempting to reclaim what they'd lost, for losing it, all to well, they knew the cost. So they jumped, and dived, they were on the run, chasing that tattered paper into the sun.
But the heat was intense, too much to bear, the flames engulfed them, their body and air. They were gone in a flash, an instant in time, of any form of life, there wasn't a sign. Only their ashes remained, a blackness second to one, a date;
...nine, eleven, two thousand and one.
-Seth
YOU ARE READING
The Twins
RandomPublished in the yearbook of my high school and the first poem I ever wrote.
