I stand silent in the middle of this living nightmare
. Breath taken
, I am only able to gaze blankly at this barren
portrait of death
. Words can't express the sorrow
, torment and agony these confines hold. Placed here on Earth, this is a genuine chunk of hell
-- a tiny piece of everlasting torture, encapsulated by chain-linked fence
The wastelands lie still, laden with dead bodies Thousands of lost loved ones. Someone loved these dead souls immensely once, but they are now left here to be forgotten... until someone like me goes wondering through these metallic badlands. But it's true, one cannot kill that which was never truly alive.
Each suspended soul tells its story without making a sound. A silent whisper dribbles out of the back of my mind, "This really doesn't look like an accident... that body is too mangled for any natural cause to have brought it to it's current state." Some aren't as bad as others. Some even seem as though their death was quick and simple -- almost surgical.
I walk through the countless rows of bodies. They're all lined up like aisles at the grocery store -- lined up for the world to see, or at least those who might care. This one's story is too clear -- burned to death. You can tell by the charred remnants of its insides. This one must have drowned -- there's dried and aged algae stuck to its dash, not to mention the sickly look of water damage. A few these individuals were taken before their time, but others lived out their lives and simply died of natural causes. Some of these dearly departed souls are so horribly mangled, if they didn't have a piece of paper with its name on it they would be entirely unidentifiable.
Some look as though they were happy right before they were permanently decommissioned -- possibly out for a Sunday drive to enjoy the fresh spring air and the radiant new summer sun. Others look as though they might have wrapped themselves around a telephone pole doing 100. These are all very disturbing images of what true misery might be.
There are the plain, the ugly, and the beautiful. But no matter what they were before they died, they've all ended up here -- in death, we are all equals. As a testament to their productive lives, I stand in front of some of the dead and I ponder the day that they were born -- so full of potential, such a long life ahead, bringing with them into this world the promise of the future happiness of that one special person. Sometimes these tapestries of torment are so beautiful that I can't bear to look, and I move on to the next specimen to be observed and pondered.
Every now and again, the immensity of this asylum of malice escapes me -- and again I stand still. I do nothing but look around this metal cemetery. Over the expanse of the dead bodies, I try to look for the boundaries of this area ... but to no avail. I only see this morbid portrait of death stretch to what seems like infinity.
Sleep well ye loyal servants. Slumber peacefully on the idea that you have not led a trite and meaningless life. Even if those who were closest to you didn't treat you as well as they could have -- sleep easy, you have found your freedom from strife. It is time for me to go, all my new friends that I may never meet again. Farewell. I know you do not understand... but I have to go.
Man... Going to the junkyard with my friends to find parts for our cars can be really depressing sometimes.