2 days ago
10,000 souls have passed through this place, 10,000 lives with no physical trace.
The pages you left are all that remain, remnants and stories of 10,000 unnamed,
torn from society and labeled insane.
Tattered pages sprawled against dust, tucked between concrete and bars laced in rust. These pages house a history, a life untold.
Who are you? Where did you go?
For these layers of ink, whose thanks do I owe?
Abandoned and hollow, imprisoned by steel. No salvation or comfort, it's only sadness I feel.
I welcome your sadness and feel it as my own. I imagine your fear and longing for home.
If I could only reach out to remind you're not alone.
Who are you? where did you go?
I feel your story in the deepest part of my soul.
And though you're long gone, you are never forgotten.
Through the chaos and trash, your heart's still at the bottom.
You're alive in these papers and pages and books. And your fragments of prose is all that it took.
I trace your words with unsteady fingers.
Staring at the 10,000 spaces you linger.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Particles of you will live on, if you trust.
You did not die here, you are not dead.
And I'll tell 10,000 stories from the words that you bled.
Sorrow seeps from the air to the walls; links from your chain still lie here on the floor.
But you did not die here. You are not dead. And whatever you lived, will one day be read.
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