I had never seen clouds so high in my feeble life.
A life made feeble by the shadow cast by this monster.
In this Post-Apocalyptic world I now reside in.
More like this Post-Apocalyptic world resides around me.
I stand here with a picket fence around my vanity,
Without the slightest dent to the clockwork of my sanity.
I stand here composed in a field of compost,
As soldier in a commode like wasteland.
Among the compost is the Library,
Its books scattered scratched and scared out of their wits.
The Family Center stands jagged,
Using the entertainment store as its crutch,
While clutched under the brush
Is the Psychiatric Ward,
Which was abandoned long ago
When civil disobedience was called into question
As a mental disorder, and a cause of treason.
The obedience academy next door lays in pieces
While its inmates were already set free.
Over coming the Animosity,
That the city had over their treason.
The only reason to hold them was to protest,
The very reason that the treason was founded on;
Civil disobedience is not logical,
And getting a point across that way is impossible.
The pharmacy and local Starbucks
Covering blocks one through ten
Stayed open,
So we could all get our fix
Of medicines to displace that malevolence feeling,
Displayed now through all the broken buildings.
The cloud moves on from this dismal place,
But its impact is forever strong.
Many people see it as a rainy day,
While I see it as something wrong.
If the people here weren't so materialistic,
We wouldn't be this far along
The path of self-damnation,
And this dystopia wouldn't be our destination.
