Steeped in melancholia
and adorned in robes of sorrow,
I walk among the wretched.
They will be dead before tomorrow.
Bleached bones lie in the sand
stripped bare of any flesh
as they prepare to turn to dust
and are blown away like ash.
Alone, I stand and look
upon the dry and barren plains.
And I shrug and walk away
from what used to be fruited plains.
An empire meets its fate
just like in days of old
And as Rome did fall from grace,
America’s future was foretold.
Shelby I. Courtland
©2015 Shelby I. Courtland