The crumbling walks
and tottering walls
whisper the stories of bygone…
The gates relive the shrieks
of the maidens the princes took…
Floor echoes the laments
of farmers forced to give up
lands to build the majestic view…
The walls, washed since,
hold traces of blood
of labour forced to trade
shovel for spears
to fight the battles
they didn’t choose…
All to pacify kings
who couldn’t care less if
babies died of hunger…
The wind in the castle
passages quietly whispers
to those who’d close their eyes
to the view and just listen…
Photo by Cederic X on Unsplash
Short Stories | Fish-eye Perspective 