I mark this midnight's metropolitan:
Damp and dark like prison
They threat her square life,
Circumscribed by seven toxic vice
That corrodes one natural good-
With changing subject and predicate
Guide us to our graves,
Not dug in country churchyards
But which deep-rooted within
Dull hole of your brain;
Reduces us to our shade
Haunting lone streets, living-dead.
(First composed: August,2015)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem