Aaron Owens
The city is dark
Though its lights remain on
The people are still there
But the land’s soul has withered away
The trees are not gone, but replaced
Turned from mighty standing gods into crumpled paper
Now stand cement giants who reach the sky
Which has been drowned by a sea of smog
In which steal birds swim
Casting out the sun
Leaving us in out darkness
The city is dark
upbeat cynicism 