The Sound of Silence
Left to rot in the darkest corner,
Dust falling while paint peels.
The sound of silence as time stagnates,
All still but the elements.
The site of disaster at the hands of humans?
The theme park at Pripyat or Chippewa Lake?
The surface, a ghost of its former life,
The last day when the bumper cars stopped
And the Ferris wheel froze.
Nature has reclaimed the iron skeleton.
Everything dies, even iron.
Even the fun that once was.
I stand and gaze at the scene behind the fences,
Six Flags, Nara Dreamland, Lake Shawnee.
It’s always the same.
My years are reflected in the broken glass on the ground,
And my sickness projected onto the collapsing scene.
Ageing, decaying and diminishing.
Nothing lasts forever.
(Image taken from google images.)