Cry for me, I am History,
My ruins are desecrated,
My name is worn away,
I stand alone in the desert,
In jungle mists,
Or drowned in waters,
Forgotten,
Mistreated,
And forever lost,
Does history mean to be cast away?
When things have passed into a new age,
Am I meant to be here, alone?
Free me! Come back!
My stones can be used,
Just one more day...
I don�t want to be History...
(Note: Alright, yea, yet again no flow but thats not everything poetry is about! This is about how everyone basically mistreats history, like at the 2004 Olympics, they destroyed so many monuments...)