pollution

The city is killing me

 

The city is killing me.

With its broken, damaged roads

With its dark, polluted air

Jam packed with snarling vehicles

Whose screams you can hear everywhere.

But these are superficial things.

What really makes me die inside

Is the changing tides of the world.

A world devoid of people

With no flowers to smell

And no stories to tell.

Robots instead of people

Inhabiting its every nook.

Poison frothing inside

Its every little brook.

Surreal as it may sound

They are all dead inside

Whom I am going to join

Because the city is killing me.

 

Written as a participatory post for The Daily Prompt Surreal

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