Coughing City

A poem about our dying world.

Bleak,

Coughing city.

Puffs of malady escape

Smoky lips.

Bruised hips.

Nostrils of tall towers,

Snore distantly,

Unmistakably,

Callously,

In the quiet night.

 

The creature’s stomach grumbles,

A churning hunger for destruction.

Tiptoeing over

Live landmines.

While pale echoes trot

Through the sleeping skyline.

 

Shadows knock on the sealed door,

Oak wood splinters,

And bends,

To faint grey,

Shards of light.

Escaping like prisoners.

No longer dreaming,

Now Screaming,

Waking up the

Bleak,

Coughing city.

Author's Note

Any feedback is greatly appreciated!