The Smoke

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just my thoughts and impression as we drove past a really industrialized area today. Over dramatic? Maybe. But I was in that kind of a mood, so yeah.

Submitted: March 28, 2013

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Submitted: March 28, 2013

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The smoke violates my nose, and inwardly I shout and recoil.  

The buildings of creation glimmer cruelly, and they have made the clouds a dark, sickening grey.

The towers bleched up smoke like freight trains, and the Earth cried out in pain.

The silent cry pierced my ears, and I closed my eyes without a single word.  

 

The moment I opened my eyes again, I looked at the bloody orange sky and saw the color try to bleed into the grey clouds of death.

The bloody orange sunset was quickly swallowed up by the infected grey sky created by the buildings that towered high... 

And I could only watch as the color slowly died.  


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