Ancient Things

Ancient things die

Loneliness is an emptiness,
that never does
Old men remember
Faces drift in and fade quickly
Emptiness unfulfilled bites hard
Lonely men turn shades of gray
Wrinkles line the faces of lies
Nature has no morality
Slaughtering without remorse
Ancient things die
Some are remembered
Most fade into the night
Faces drift in like smoke
Waft away in time
Wrinkles line the faces of all those lies
Pushed to the edge of remorse
October rain feels like condemnation
I stand on the edge
Were tire streaks marked the spot
Looking over where I once laid
Pulled from the wreckage
Held together in lights
Emptiness unsatisfied
Disappointment of a wasted life
Lost in free will
Trust a fragile thing
a molecule crack
Will destroy  master pieces
Ancient things all die
Even pride and forgiveness
Old men have stories
Old ladies have vanity
We all have memories