City

Burning scent, rubber and tar,
golden lights blazing, surrounding.
Foul motion, much too busy.
Destruction, chaotic structure.
Bleak in a dying world, no more green,
cold in a heatless sun.
The rich and the poor juxtaposed,
a vile contrast indeed.
Tall symbols of pride, frail glass,
too close and too claustrophobic.
Ashes scatter in the unclean air.
The mark of their existence everywhere,
fake worlds among the illusions.
No more space, going upwards:
the wild try to find a way to cope.
Little trees surrounded by fences,
a rats nest maze high in the sky.
Wilted dreams, too hot and crowded,
mocking and shattered memory mirrors.
Poor, pitiful efforts, commendable,
if not laughable.
Dirty place, dirty people,
forgot again to save the beauty.