The skyline wheezes through gauze-thick breath,
its lungs ossified in scaffolded sighs,
where children etch constellations on smog,
and pigeons strut in soot-stained pride.
Dark as coal, and quieter than sleep,
the city dreams in monochrome,
its rivers choked with yesterday’s sins,
its gardens traded for silicone.
Traffic flows like veins in a dying beast,
pumping noise into the marrow of stillness.
We built this...
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