Old Town

These bricks hold stories, but none as disturbing as my bones. I went down without glory letting them sing false tones. These streets hold no power, but the ones that lay them do. They spoke to me before but these new ones are dead without you. fight the sword with scales and you end up getting cut. A final prayer for those who hold them but keep their curtains shut. "Its not what it has been" you say with remorse. "I dont think it ever was" I reply coarse.