Legacy

Nothing moved over the forgotten hill.
Standing lost, mournful, and alone.
Everything was silent and deadly still.
Decorated by broken stone.

Hidden and trapped far below,
Lay the tombs of forgotten men.
Whose names people no longer know.
And will never be seen again.

Clothed in decay.
Hidden by twilight.
Trapped in the clay.
Entombed by the night.

Twelve square feet,
Was all that remained.
Of life’s feat,
And everything gained.

Their lives passed away,
To the abyss of the dead.
Placed where the sun’s ray,
Was prohibited to spread.

The short empty years they lived,
Amounted to naught.
The only thing that survived,
Was a small stone wrought,

With the name,
And years of a life.
A short claim,
Of their painful strife.

Everything came to this one small place,
But nothing remained.
They lost the important life long race,
Ankles and wrists chained.

Their stories they wrote,
In silver and gold.
They cast their vote,
And ended up sold,

To the great devil who sought,
Each desolate hopeless soul.
The eternal prize they bought,
Placed them in an endless hole.