by Emily Hamm
An apparition of a town
A blasted skeleton
Just a vast expanse of empty green,
And blue skies.
The train stops here, in Manyberries
A settlement with little left.
Not much to offer,
Little to forget.
I step foot on the dry ground
Something wicked in the air.
A peculiar madness ices my bones.
An unspeakable stone drops deep into my gut.
Silence stretches across this place
Reminds me
How alone I am.
I am.
If I shrieked right now, who would hear me?
Would the sky open and let rain fall?
Would the grass make way for my body to lay?
Would the silence consume whatever I am?
My foot touches the yellowing grass,
The other falling behind.
It’s not green after all.
The dense soil sinks.
The red train station is all I see,
A tiny structure rooted in vastness.
Going forward seems like moving back,
The train station moves farther, the more I go near.
Does anyone live here?
No one in sight.
But
Why do I feel so many eyes lingering?
Those that stay
Choose to remain among the weeds.
Who didn’t feel the desperate need,
To escape upon a train.
Where else to go?
As I walk here,
In the perpetual plains,
I drown myself in the silence
Which leaves me utterly, hauntingly
Alone.
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