Silent Plea

I wake —the only one alive—

and rise,

straining my tired eyes.

Here— shadows and emptiness.

What’s outside? I will confess—

I shiver at the quietness…

I step on solid concrete floor

The door—

no one comes through any more…

Outside— streets as cold as steel

gaze at me as though they feel.

Not they nor I have aught to conceal.

I walk— the place to me laid bare.

But where

is there a place for which I care?

There— a crumbling façade;

Here— soiled, cracked and drying mud.

Former grace now mournfully so flawed

I weep— cold tears upon my face.

This place—

a mausoleum to my race.

Torpor brings me to my knees.

Ground, accept my full release.

Oblivion, hear my silent pleas.