The Forgotten Poem by James McLain

Gray walls loom like weary sentries,
Cold corridors echo the voiceless call's.
A thousand shadows drift in silent despair,
No stars to guide, no balm for care.

The moon hides her face behind ashen cloud's,
No waves to soothe, no whispers allowed.
Here time hangs heavy, a slow, dull grind,
Where mercy is scarce and love isn't kind.

Hands that tremble, eyes that plead,
Souls grown hollow, denied their need.
The overworked, the hearts of stone,
Walk among the forsaken, alone.

Dreams once vibrant, now frail and pale,
Withered by the burden of this forgotten tale.
No ocean to cradle, no trees to climb,
Only emptiness vast, stark, and wild.

In the forgotten halls of broken days,
The night endures in a shrouded haze.
Who will sing for the silenced cries?
Who will lift the veil of darkened skies?

Yet a flicker may rise, fragile but true,
A memory of life, of skies once blue.
Though the moon hides now, she may yet shine,
On the forgotten hearts, both yours and mine.