Songs of the Fallen

When all humans have gone, and not a soul lingers in sight

Two shady figures come out bold, their eyes twinkling of delight

One nods enthusiastically, the other grins widely like a fool

As they start to roam, hand in hand, the acres of the deserted school


Singing such ancient songs that reflect their emotions like a mirror

Their happiness, melancholy, and every essence of their anger

Songs with stories, the chirps of the nocturnal insects intertwining with their laughter so high

They know they wouldn’t change the world by yelling at it, but they can sure damn well try


They sing to a reality that shunned them and banished them hurt

They sing to the condescending people that went out of their way and treated them like dirt

They sing, to tune out the sharp, cruel, lethal words they’ve always been told

They sing, because that’s all they have to offer against this world so cold


They sing, and their shackled hearts finally break free from its prison and and fly

They sing, and their void, tampered souls light up the entire night sky

They sing, and not a single thing matters anymore in the veering infinite universe

As those two twisted figures dance, laugh and joyfully shout out each verse


Because their ignored noises and that seemingly-silly routine are what makes it worth it

After existing in yet another dreary day that they want to instantly forget

And as their chariots came, and the last rays of the smiling sun disappears

The two figures slip out, only left with ghost smiles and tunes still bounding in their ears


But there came a horrid time when one suddenly had to leave the place

Unforeseen circumstances, it left both their minds in such a haze

And the very last thing that kept their days worth all the torturous pain

Had been mercilessly ripped off their hands, flickered off like a candle in the rain


And when the fateful last day came, both figures stood staring emptily at the evanescing horizon

Singing, but this time more mournfully, the penultimate verses of their written requiems

Then they said their goodbyes as if everything was simply back to normal again

Even though both thoughts wailed, pleaded, screamed that this will never be bound to happen


Now she walks one crumbled path, and he walks the dusty other

Two lives disconnected, parallel worlds untouched, two completely different matter

Will they be bound to meet again, only the sluggish ticking time can tell

But for now, the joyous songs have ceased, and left an open ending to the bittersweet tale


But if one listens closely, and to the parting chromatic sunset they run

Over there, at the end of the boundary line, in the coalescing light of the setting sun

One’ll hear, maybe, just maybe hear a faint sound that from Time has been stolen

A small shadow, an imprint, a faint echo of the last songs of the Fallen.

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Filed under Poetry

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