Three am in this godless city,
Movement all too familiar,
eyes beckon to me.
I walk on.
City streets mock, engaging me to stay.
These streets are no longer my friends,
the city is a well disguised charlatan.
Allure has been replaced by anguish
I sink deeper in self-chastising shame.
Innocence is no longer in my ownership - goodbye.
What though has it been replaced with? Experience - bah!
It is within experience they say we grow stronger,
I am certain that in loving arms one can grow stronger too.
Where is my home now?
Pitiful, dark, damp room, stagnant air,
Door heavily locked, please, no more intruders.
Sitting alone in my hutch,
Wondering to what depth's I am able to fall.
Drifting within a unique form of my own consciousness,
in this soul invading city.
What life is this that I have executed for myself?
Mistakes have been made, can I turn back,
is it possible for love to return.
Too many errors, pride blocks the way of an outward journey.
I am dirty, too dirty,
This foul stench will never be ridden!
Loathsome city, wretched city, trying to despoil my soul.
Lights that once seduced, now burn my essence with scorn,
Laughing and screaming at my ineptitude to
pull myself back from this transient state,
within the city walls.
Let go the hold, release me,
This offering of bondage I never asked.
Intention to turn one corner, two corners,
maybe three just to bathe in sunshine.
Alas - shame is such a strong burden
for one to feel themselves worthy of bathing in sunshine.
'Such a beautiful girl, ' my grandmother used to say.
The beauty eroded by the city,
into a sunken void of blackened infinity.
Strangers cannot look into my eyes now,
Scared to see themselves in their own reflection perhaps.
My own reflection located in the city's bilge,
murky and ridden with blood sucking insects.
People are cruel, this city even more so,
relentless in its beatings, laughing,
nursing away at my existence.
Dripping cold in my heart is this city,
it has strangled the life from my soul.
Once buoying my dreams,
now gripping each moment into a harsh eternity.
When moments are too enduring reflection creeps in,
What purpose is reflection,
if you feel you have no more aspiration to dream?
Shame, city shame, it may yet be the winner in this game.