Tall empty buildings, alone in their memory of humans.
A single bit of sunlight shines through their empty husks,
Concrete and leftover waste, a lone spark in an electrical conduit somehow still powered. Flickers on and off into eternity.
Numbers on doors mean nothing.
A few ants traverse ripped carpet still scavenging for food.
A plant on the rooftop grows wild eating the sunlight whole.
A bird chirps in the distance singing a song.
There used to be a melody here.
In a place of constant noise.
In constant pain.
In constant laughter.
In constant bustle.
In constant joy.
In constant life.