Antiques

They fell from their royalty.

Antiques

 

We thought the sea was steady

And the tide would dissipate,

But now we’re stranded in the water

Of the waves that buried me.

 

My lungs waste the air they have

By crying out for more.

With my eyes clamped shut, I reach out

To find the final shore;

Just sprawling out for more

To find what I’m looking for.

 

Refugees of fallen kingdoms,

We ran from what we had.

We didn’t know that what we made

Wasn’t built to last.

 

Failing to the waters,

I cry for something more.

I lash out for the answers,

But find only failure.

I try to make sense of

How this came to be,

And it all comes back in memories

That I will always see.

 

We stood upon our thrones,

High above the rest in kingdoms of our own.

We were loved, cherished, nourished;

We were the gods of our domain.

But by a gentle breeze,

Our downfall swept in from the night.

Our call to arms was futile;

There was no one that would fight.

We tried to run and hide,

But they pushed us from behind.

We fell down from our altars,

Down to the ground below.

We slammed into the concrete,

Spirits shattered, pieces scattered,

And they left us there to die.

 

They shoved us from our thrones,

They left us there to die.

 

They left us there to die.

 

I wade against the waters

That weigh me to the ground,

But I don’t have the strength

Left to give away;

I wasted it while fighting for

What I thought would come back.

 

The water fills my body,

My lungs give up the fight.

With eyes downcast, I let the fire

Die down from my soul.

My heart shatters into pieces

As scars open themselves again.

My limbs freeze up and fail,

My nerves fall dead and numb,

But I can still feel my stinging pride

As it pounds against my skull.

 

The waters wash away

The last mistakes I made.

My muscles fall and give out;

My body fails to move.

I give up all my hope

To see the light again.

Instead, I give up fighting

And waves pull me down to drown.

 

My last sight is of the kingdom

That I once stood above.

I look down from my thrown,

To subjects of my own,

And in my success, I fall complacent

Against my inner voice.

I let down my guard;

Allowed the rise of something new.

It may be better, or simply stronger,

But I will never know.

It pushed me from my throne,

Where I fell to darkness then unknown.

Spirits shattered, pieces scattered,

And we tried to get away,

But with no one that would help us,

There was no open way.

 

The people of our kingdom

Left us here to die.

They helped push us from our thrones

For something they liked just then.

Never satisfied, they pushed us to the ground;

Replaced us with something else they will eventually bring down.

We were stranded and abandoned;

Strewn out on the cold dirt.

No one came to help us;

They left us there to die.

 

They left us there to die.

 

They left us there to die.

 

Like antiques, we were just their stepping stones,

And they left us there to die.

 

Reviews

[Unspoken poet]

A very descriptive write, I enjoyed this. Nicely written

[Seth Armstrong]

Thanks! Glad you enjoyed.

[Lord of mad men]

it is very nice. i loved read every line!

[Seth Armstrong]

Thanks! I'm glad you liked it!

[a-little-disaster]

This is really, really interesting to me. I love the style you used and the description was outstanding. All in all, I must say all of your writings are great really.

[Seth Armstrong]

Thank you! I'm glad you like it! Sorry, it's been a long while since I've used the site regularly; I missed this review.

[♥ Ari Skye ♥]

That was a really great poem. For some reason it made me think of pirates. Lol.
Thank you for sharing that piece. Keep writing!

[Seth Armstrong]

Pirates? Haha! And thank you and I intend to!

[♥ Ari Skye ♥]

Yep. Like Johnny Depp and all! LMAO! no problem!

[Kyline Freed]

This sounds almost like it was meant to be a song. This was wrote really good it's hard to believe that you made it so long with out changing the topic, that's impossible for me to do which is why my poems are so short. The meaning of this seems to say a lot, it's like they want to get out but don't have the strength to.

[Seth Armstrong]

Yeah, most of my poetry ends up looking more like songs than simple poems. Thanks, Kyline!