Some things were made to be broken,
Like castles and fortresses
That we admire in their damaged form.
Why do we call them "ruins,"
When they're any but?
These 'ruins' are the skeletons
Of an illustrious
But false past.
And now there they are,
Beautiful.
Moreso now than ever before,
Exposed and hiding nothing.
Broken down by violent battles
By Mother nature's violent storms
By desire,
By blood lust
By greed,
Broken down until they hide nothing.
Until all they once sheltered
Is gone
And there's no more battle.
Silence and still falls
And there's no more fighting.
Some things were made to be broken,
Like hearts, sometimes,
That only become completely exposed
When left shattered and crumbling.
Those ruins may be broken,
But they're beautiful.
1 comment:
This is such a beautiful tribute Adam. How grateful your Mum would be for this
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