Ozymandias 3k
2nd January 2020

Submerged in dust of earth and men,
A face lies staring towards the sun,
Unblinking gaze of white glazed glass,
A distant look to times long past,

Further on a smooth peach hand,
Sprouted from the death and sand,
On the wrist we find some words;
In small black print, pristine, preserved: