Poetry

Crumbled Dust

Crumbled Dust (By Cat Matchuk)

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doors to the upper room by Oz Yigit

You see me, you see right through,
past the flesh and into the heart.
Awaking from a dream just to stumble across the broken concrete of buildings,
you wish to be dreaming again, it’s better.

You see my fears; you see them in yourself.
Bare feet across the broken glass just to reach me,
dreams would be dull without you.

Blood and dust mix, thicker as it grows,
conceal the decades of despair,
of humanity,
despair and humanity, not the same concept, it shouldn’t be,
yet it is.

You see me, you look inside,
searching through the words that I don’t speak, to put them together, create something,
anything,
in this decaying world.

Broken concrete of it doesn’t last, but the words do.
And the blood,
and the dust.