Rust

They say it is what it is,

And it was what is was,

Past or present, now she is rust,

Reminiscent on memories that hold no meaning,

She clutches onto them, how demeaning,

If push comes to shove, she can throw it all away,

But as her head hits the pillow, there comes the grey,

Pushing on day by day, the motto is go on,

But the pearly gates call her, for there is where is she belongs,

Deteriorating daily, breaking down in essence,

Her body is always there, but her soul never present,

A walking cadaver, a living hell,

Only wanted, when they ring the bell,

All is lost, no savior, no light,

No flame left in my heart, no oil to ignite.

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world

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