The Town

There is a town

I've heard of,

And yet have never been.

It's said to be

A sad old town,

Cold, and riddled with sin.

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The people there

Dress black and white.

They rarely sport a grin.

With tangled hair,

Matted and oiled,

And the palest wrinkled skin.

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Never to utter

The slightest cheer.

They solemnly move along.

Their silence lay

A cold, unwanted,

Depressed and eerie song.

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They move in a rhythm

Side by side.

And never look up to nod.

They do not laugh,

They hardly speak,

And never poke nor prod.

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Like sheep in hell,

The time will pass

Not even one soul will care.

They'll slug along

Day after day,

No worries are found there.

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The children never

Run nor play.

They never laugh or smile.

They merely sit

Along the curbs

And stare for quite a while.

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The dogs and cats

Lay still and stiff

Appearing as though they're dead.

No bark, no meow,

No scratch or sniff,

And never are they fed.

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The sky is always

Gray with cloud.

The sun there never shines.

It feels as if

The effort of -

Is simply a waste of time.

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I knew a man

Who braved this town

And never did return.

I've been told

By many more,

They never raised concern.

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The man, they say,

Was swallowed whole

By the sadness living there.

He never saw it coming

Never warned,

And unaware.

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His wife had pegged him

As a fool

When she begged him not to go.

He shrugged it off

In short, replied,

"You never know, what you don't know."

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They gave this man

A funeral

In honor of his life.

From the back

They heard shrill laughter

Coming from his wife.