Atrophy

The sun brings no warmth
The water burdens thirst
Clouds bring no shade
I wish this was the first.

We open the iron gate
To let the spirits run free,
But they stay just beyond
To a place we hardly see.

Warm beds bring no comfort.
Hot showers won't clean filth.
Our prayers stay unanswered
In this rotten place we built.

Joy doesn't touch our hearts.
Trees sway to a reckoning song.
Rivers run still and quiet.
There. All hope is gone.

Reviews

[Davidgeo]

That's some good work. You do the word apathy it's justice.

[Hallow]

Thank you, I appreciate you