Silo

By Sri Ramya Smruthi

Poetess’ note:- I am unsure of what a silo truly is, i have only seen them when i wander, or when i get lost in fields. Men find me, give me grain. It is always rotten. I never know why.

It reminds me of him. It angers me. And yet, I cry.

I am a silo

I will hold your grain

I will wait until you open the trap door

So I can spill it out on you

Your grain

Your own creations

They might be rotten

Even though I tried my best

But you'd blame it on me

Even though it was your grain

And all I wished for was goodness

And then you'll tear me down

Push down my walls until everything

Breaks free

And build another one

For you to store your rotten grain in

But

I will be a silo

Please fill me up with your grain

I won't cry when you complain

Don't tear me down

Even if you'll poison your grains as I sleep

Don't give up on me

I am your silo

I will look at the sunset

And I will hold your venom

Even though it pierces through me sharp and slow

I am your silo

Don't give up on me

This last poem was found at the very top of the pile at the centre of the cave. It had stains, something similar to paint, but it is predicted to be metallic since it has a coating similar to rust.

It was the most difficult one to transcribe, since it had more cut-offs and near illegible handwriting, oddly enough.

Poets all across the globe have said that it was the most gut-wrenching painting out of all the five.

By Sri Ramya Smruthi