Scaling the mountain
They never taught me to climb
I feel her rejoice
About the Creator
Caitlin Jill Anders
Full-time writer with anxiety just figuring it out.
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Immurement
We all know you’re dead, you just don’t know it yet. Bones will become brittle, blood will evaporate. Tendons will hardened, skin will calcify. A coffin above the ground. A sarcophagus that lies in wait. History will judge you and finally seal your fate. Was there any doubt in your undeniable guilt? Your tomb will lie undisturbed and unraided. Bedouin tribes will keep your name silent. The desert will claim you as a lost traveler. Nomadic wanderers will leave you in forced peace. This denouement will climax and abruptly cave in on you. Future theives will never know you existed. Your origins will simply convert into energy and vaporize. It will be the last thing you ever do. Your gift to humanity is not your confession but your absence when we are finally rid of you. A vanishing provoked by hostile hands. You made your bed and we will strap you down to it. A gradual decline in your capabilities. Imprisonment is not enough punishment. We must rejoice in your eventual decay. Your years of torment have ceased and we look forward to a world that no longer exists with you in it. Your sentence will echo in the chambers of the pharaohs. Silent are the voices you took. Silent is now what becomes of you. This world is finally through with you.
By Anna Torresabout 21 hours ago in Poets
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