Suburban Decay

His eyes glazed over,

A haunted lysippian gaze.

In this cold room, he’ll shiver,

Gripped by an unrelenting fear.

He thought of his family,

The many children he had fathered,

The many women he had loved.

But they were no more.

As the blood of his brothers,

Pooled on numb sheet metal.

He didn’t pray.

For here, there was no god.

With a bolt pressed against his skull,

He will lose his life.

His body desiccated,

Consumed by a remorseless evil.

And like his ancestors before him,

He will be forgotten.

For if he is remembered, 

He must be saved.

-Rob Padfield