That’s all it takes.
Just one phrase,
One slip of the mind…
And cities crumble.
The walls you see,
Still shimmer and sheen.
The city crumbles.
Bigger walls, built around it,
To the outside show splendor and might,
Yet is a mighty push from within.
No one is to come near,
Delight across the face,
Hide the falls behind the soul’s doors.
No more – please, no more.
This city is weary with sorrow,
And much toil.
Can it not rest for a while?
Will no one prove those before amiss?
The black snow rains on this city,
It covers the ground,
Buries the walking dead.
Beloved ally, do not reproach thine-self.
The clouds that breathe this black
Are not of your city.
The Brutus city is not yours.
This Cain of a blow reaches,
Reaches deep, letting black snow loose.
Comrade city, lonesome city,
The façade lifts, thanks to thee.
The black snow thins.
Please, lift the doors from the dirt,
And know, we are lonesome cities.
Black snow thickens,
Yet two lonesome cities we shall remain.
Copyright © Lauren Johnson | Year Posted 2013
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