A tenebrous skyline impales the smog,
Like old withered trees in a festering bog.
The blanket of filth that traverses the skies,
Gives the distinct impression that there is something it hides.
Below the layers of smoke and black dust,
In fact, sits a world that is corroded with Rust.
Though this Rust is not the kind that gnaws upon metal,
It is just as corrosive when encouraged to settle.
It settles upon shops, on buildings, in the streets,
And it does not hesitate to infect the social elite.
It clouds the minds of all whom it consumes,
And sweeps away morals with metaphorical brooms.
Greed, vice, corruption and money,
Soon blacken the skies that once were quite sunny.
When a beacon of light attempts to shine through,
The Rust summons its allies, its black-hearted crew.
They drive the light back beyond whence it came,
The Rust thinking now that land has been gained.
Soon Rust will figure its joy premature,
As its lurid core grows worn out and impure.
The light will advance, one way or another,
No matter how many the Rust may smother.
The skyline will collapse above the smog,
And fall down below all the smoke and the fog.
The Rust will be crushed under its very own weight,
After months of illness and a slowing of gait.
After its death, the filth will falter,
For it is upon a most sentient alter.
The sun will blaze with renewed vigor,
And burn through the filth that drifts to and hither.
Finally, when the rays blast through the dead dust,
The light will gaze upon the ruins of Rust.
5 Comments
is this the one!? That got 2nd? Very good nonetheless!
By “That got 2nd?” do you mean it should’ve done better, or worse?
should have done 1 better!
is this the one?
Yes it is Matt, I liked it so much I put it on here
now Sean can direct folks here for some good reading.
Yea, its the one. And thanks sir.