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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1790258-The-road
by Tim
Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1790258
Inspired by Edgar Poe. An entry for the copy cat contest.
I awake to find i'm at a road
Surrounded by dirt whilst made of gold
What man constructed such a street?
What success did he gain from such a feat?

Confusion aches my every cell!
What celestial being chose here to dwell?
Onward I march down this treasure
Should caution be issued on this venture?

The land grows dark as the sun goes down
Still i've yet to find man nor town
With no place to camp and need of food
My withering soul hears a sad, slow, tune

A melody that reduces me to tears
and melts away any instance of fear
I venture forth to find the origin of this sound
It's just up ahead! The road must end now!

I sprint at the sound and gasp at the sight
It's a rotting corpse playing this tune in the night!
The sound suddenly stops and the fiend eyes me full
As if his intent were to swallow my soul!

Backwards I tumble, surpressing a scream
What wicked act could create such a being?
As the sun has retreated, the monster erects
Yet as he stands no hate nor evil do I detect.

I shudder as it walks over to where i've fallen
It's rancid, rotting hands reach towards me, how appauling!
Then as I snap into focus I see it comes with a gift
It seems to suggest a hand so it may give me a lift

I hesitate, but decided not to anger the ghoul
It calmly helps me up and gives me the musical tool
"For what deed am I deserved this? What mission have you?"
I ask this strange creature, now terribly confused.

"I've had this for years, waiting for an end."
"It's your turn for limbo, my unfortunate friend"
The creature says this to me, yet I do not understand
"This is but earth and i'm but only a man!"

The creature shakes it's head and looks at me with hallow eyes
Suddenly then and there my fate, i've realized.
This, this cannot be! It's just a strange dream!
But death has come for me, and succeeded so it seems.

For the first time I sit on this cursed golden road.
And realize that in my search I overlooked this abode.
Drawing the bow I rest the violin on my chin.
And play for the days that I acted in sin.

It seemed to go on for years, my melody perfected
Until in the horizon a new form seems projected
Finally, redemption! I sadly play on and await
For I know all too well this new traveler's fate.
© Copyright 2011 Tim (ladudeabides at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1790258-The-road