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Decay Stories

decay

Love in Old Age

Reflections on my twilight years

I pray you, do not trample on my dreams. Though you may only see this outer shell, A frail thing of flesh; this outward reality, Is of no greater substance than the air,Masking the real truth that lies withinFrom the unperceptive gaze of the world,Blinded by the harsh glare of common sense. Outwardly I may be on the dread pathThat leads to mortal decay and old age,My limbs may now be clothed in sagging flesh, Where in my...

Anonymous

What happens when the puppet master dies?When there is no one else to pick up the strings.What becomes of us dear puppets?Now that nobody wants to play.As dust gathers upon our still frames,As termites, eat away at the forgotten stage,Will someone please take us away?We forgot what it was like to feel a sun’s ray.When our dear puppet master dies,Won’t you take his place,Just as he took the place of the one before him?Insp...

This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.Smears of glowering greyRoll smudged across the violet sky,Dusk sinking toTwilight sinking toStar-studded velvetRoiling night.A whispered curse is a wraith in the pit,Phantasms flying across the soulWhere emptiness weepsAnd the echoes of painAnd the twisted limbs ofThe fallen oak lie.Gone are the gods of old in the forestAnd dea...

New Life By The Tracks.

A man starts to question why he moved into a horrible apartment but sees the good in the situation.

Why did I move here? What is that awful smell? The train tracks outside the window are loud as hell. How will this affect sleep? Why is the carpet damp? I just saw a tiny leak near that dusty old ceiling lamp. Where are those bloody keys? What is that annoying sound? It's next door with music so raucous it shakes the ground. Why does she look happy? Is my girlfriend that delusional? I don't think I have seen that amazing...

I sore

The once 'lived in walls' cave down and he moves on to new...yet one day while passing by........

While walking by my old homeA grain of sand fell in my eyeAnd as I looked at the crumbling wallsAnd trees growing out of theOnce ‘lived in’ hallsI tried to let the memories pass byAnd my hands moved to rub my eyesMy son asked ‘Isn’t that your old home dadIs that why you cry?'I looked at him and the home that once was mineAnd hugged him and kissed him and wiped my eyesAnd to him I said‘Oh not to worry kiddoit’s just a grai...