Racked by strife
There may not be a wrong nor right
So many years
For so long now plagued by fears
Fears of fighting
Fears of death
Fear of what may happen next
What will happen?
Nay what can?
Hope we learn from early men
Who saw their world
It was their cities that were burned to ground
An arrogant pursuit of a freedom ill imagined and already had
The current state not so bad
Sure not perfect
But hell, what is?
To risk it all's a losing bid
All vying for a cut
When they already have so much!
Peaceful but contentious relations are there
Why does all the outside world care?
City of strife
City of spirit
In the quiet moments you can almost hear it.
Ghosts in the streets
Where the dead outnumber the living
Their souls awaiting rapture
They might be waiting a long time
There is no scale for the divine
What a city
The tales on which we all have grown
Glad to see you
Glad to visit
Hope time steadies your composite
Thankful for my time there
I will come again
I love poetry.