The Empty Realm Poem by Cooper Gilliland

Decaying towers of steel
Reach with crooked spires for the heavens.
A hollow and broken shell
Of bones, torn wide for the scavengers.

I wander through the twisted mess
As the raindrops begin to fall.
The clouds above form a boiling mass,
Still I plod, ever in thrall.

I set my sights on an overstuffed couch,
Throne-like, atop a heap of junk.
As lightning flashes, blurring my eyes,
I take my seat while springs groan and thunk.

Soon the rats creep stealthily out
Followed by cats and mongrel dogs,
Staring at me with beady orbs.
Loyal subjects to the end.

This is my place of solitude,
Reflecting on what was.
Arms raised, I scream at the sky,
'This is mine, my kingdom come! '