where the air is chilly,
the floors are scuffed,
and the night smells stale,
there you will find the faction of gold.
the bloodstained concrete,
splotches of red on the arena floor,
mostly results of simple accidents.
we don't speak of the ones that weren't.
where wrinkled posters hang limply,
barely clinging to the crumbling walls.
nobody knows how long they've been up there,
and nobody asks where they came from.
the abandoned bedroom,
the one nobody speaks of.
they know it's his,
but they refuse to say so out loud.
when stronger leaders occasionally visit,
they're never impressed.
there's not much to look at here,
and they've given up appealing to them.
the tear stained cheeks of the strongest leader,
longing to go back home.
she was promised a better life,
but this is far from that.
the station is in ruins,
due to his temper tantrums.
what's wrong with the boss?
why is he so crazy?
where all strength is lost,
and the ones you abandoned
can only wonder what happened to you,
it's been so long since you vanished.
where people die,
crushed to death by hopelessness,
no longer the person they were before,
there you will find the faction of gold.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry and Things
PoetryI've decided to try my hand at poetry! Yay! Most of my inspiration comes from @dingthemachine and a few other people in my life :> A lot of them are kinda romantic and sappy since I'm currently in love with someone aaaaaAAAAAA --May include monologu...
