Of Broken Pieces
Cold, dark, void,
Rid of all things enjoyed,
Is this place no longer my own,
In shambles, desolate and torn.
Once an expanse of green,
Now a wasteland so grim.
Sewers with filth running,
Garbage and rot piling.
From afar the stench,
Hands on mouth I clench.
Nausea crushing so fast,
Muscles tense, not long to last.
Upwards like a searing flame,
Chars away leaves me lame.
Bending over gushing out,
Can hold no longer, tapping out.
Copyright © Imani Alpha | Year Posted 2016
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