In my understanding
of this hemisphere,
I sense a certain
discontentment.
Teardrops wanting
to fall but there is
no truth to them.
Indeed, they will be lies;
a disguise
meant only to deceive.

In this graveyard
it is silent and hollow.
Wounds wanting to heal
but the blood will not stop.
Yes, the innocence of youth
is dripping onto the floor.
The inner slum
of industrial filth
is seeping into my heart.
Trashing it; digesting its
virtue and
leaving a shell behind.

I become a zombie
and feel no
desire
for improvement.

Yes, it is colder now