I can feel the bruised rock beneath my feet,
rubble and dirt crunching under my worn Vans.
There is nothing but the torn earth,
split gravel on barren land below.
Street corners with no names,
the sound of the city far behind me.
The guts of buildings live here,
back alleys and tangled power lines.
Smoke clogs my lungs as I inhale the city stench,
but it is beautiful nonetheless.
My city remains unexplored by me,
but that doesn't mean I won't get glimpses of it every now and then.
YOU ARE READING
the city
Poetryand no matter how much you water scorched grass and withering weeds, you will never make a garden re-grow -M.R c.2016
