when their ends get paused
with their merits and flaws
they stand in the midst of the square
cast in solid bronze
way, way after they're gone
I stand, facing their lifeless eyes
all action and belief
frozen in an endless wreath
of statues and statues to come
whether a smirk or a glare
the metal taunts you to dare
to question its standing through time
one as such stood in the past
but in the recent, faced a blast
and is left with nothing but a podium
the time had finally come
for many, the battle's been won
the multitude leaping with pride.
YOU ARE READING
paper aeroplanes | poetry + prose
Poetrywords that fly higher than the clouds in the sky a poetry anthology [trigger warning - references to suicidal thoughts]
