My city is aflame.
A thick, apathetic fire
Burns through the mortar,
Laps at the bricks.
What does not burn blackens
Under the devil’s tongue.
The once golden avenues
Now empty sidewalks
Where the wind blows lonesome
And the crack rocks slide
From palm to palm.
Behind the run-down-movies,
They fill their lungs
With murderous substances.
The burnt rubber odor
Hangs in the air,
But no one cares.
Not anymore.
The massive blockbusters
That used to rattle the walls
Of the ancient cinema,
Replaced by skin flicks;
Simulated sex acts
On cheap celluloid.
When the workers rest
And the dewy mist descends,
When the world is asleep,
The city burns.
About the Creator
Mack Devlin
Writer, educator, and follower of Christ. Passionate about social justice. Living with a disability has taught me that knowledge is strength.
We are curators of emotions, explorers of the human psyche, and custodians of the narrative.
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