Decay’s Promise
In crumbling walls where rust’s decree,
the stories of decay unfold,
each flake a whisper of the old.
Abandoned spires in twilight’s plea,
each end, a veil where truths are sold,
in crumbling walls where rust’s decree.
Once bright structures, now memories,
yield to time’s relentless mold.
New forms arise from what’s been cold.
Destruction writes in gold and greed,
yet through each ruin, hope’s retold,
in crumbling walls where rust’s decree.
Rust paints the end, but don’t concede,
for life’s harsh touch is merely bold.
A fresh start hides where decay’s been sown.
Decay is art, the truths we need,
the cycle’s old, yet new and cold,
in crumbling walls where rust’s decree.