Ciudad Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Alive in resplendence,
With buildings perpendicular to the
Traipsing Sun, not of yellow, but of tarnished black
The gray pool of sorrowed and starved hearts for joy

Ciudad, I can feel the windows
And the doors that are battered by memories
Talk and talk, in a loquacious manner
So as to drive the spite like a beast back to its cage.

The reservoir of distraught, like lions in pockets
Scamper across the Ciudad, the people cringe
As time froze, leaving the city as dead as the morrow
Slept in the cabins of the crypt in a dark, gloomy mesh

The life stolen by pillagers,
We are not thick as thieves,
But thin as the borders of the horizon
Slowly descending, rendering the Ciudad void from all promises.