Silence fades to an echo of fire,
Deafening whispers scream from the side streets.
The buildings all follow the same ruled lines into the distance,
leading us into the smoke filled shower.
The one drain grill is the only sanity,
or the lone route to safety...?
Posters display the truth as the narrowing road calls us to its fiery depths.
Neither time or space exist here.
Everything is left behind to become the long road to nowhere,
which exists only as long as we let it.
A blood stained city, dimly lit by shadows of our past.
This isn't life, this is hell of our own making.
(Hello, this poem is trying to describe a picture i did but it also makes sense on its own so i thought i'd put it in)
