The city is hard, angular,
Time-warped. Not old,
But it wears the parts that are new,
Heavily,
In that way that time holds memories.
It hasn’t changed in a long time.
It builds the same buildings over old foundations,
It wonders why the rivers don’t flow here, anymore.
The city chokes, under the dust of its own mistakes.
Number one being, that it didn’t believe it could be anything else.
The city is hard, angular,
Time warped. Not old,
But it wears its new parts like time holds memory,
Like they’re heavy.
🔥
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