I’m the Solemn Sky

I’m the grimy gutters that litter the cold streets under your tough feet

I’m the grating, tinny groans of cans of beer lugging themselves down empty roads

I’m the slime that slips between the cobblestones that’s bound within your bones

I’m the muggy greens that know what ‘suffering’ means in the grass with no class

I’m the tiny lives, that only suffer a thin demise under a steel heel, a graceless deal

I’m the heaving silence lurching through the smoky dregs, slamming itself into the backs of your legs

I’m the spattered, spotted stains that spell out songs on window panes

I’m the benches, gunky, drunk, plaques lost in frames just as forgotten as the names

I’m the bushes, lacking leaves, bare branches dragging tears in your shirt sleeves

I’m the street signs, patterned with crude lines and cheap wines, reminiscent of parking fines

I’m the solid walls that line the halls of bug-infested bathroom stalls

I’m the crooked fence, the last defence of some good sense that shivers with you when the smile-lines tense

I’m the brittle trees, lost to all but drooping lungs and dried-out tongues

I’m the crusted chimneys, choking out smoke with a croak, reminding you of when the smile-lines broke

I’m the cloaking clouds, capturing the town, hiding greying skies covered with dreadful lies

I’m the wistful wind that thinned the groggy air before the ripples of reality started to tear

I’m the solemn sky with glassy eye, blinking into an eternal try to softly cry

I’m the soul of all this warring, cold despair that burns into the scars of all these stars

I’m the town that breaks your heart, a sordid work of art that’s got you captured in its veins and oily stains and aches and pains,

Where you have nothing to believe and that you cannot bear to leave.

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About pasameerday

I haven't got a lot of time to keep you interested, so I'll be quick. I'm a writer from the UK, primarily of fantasy and sci-fi short stories, and occasionally of strange, nonsensical poetry. I like cats, the Sims, and pizza, and I go to sleep to the sound of a keyboard. I've been writing for my entire life; to be honest, I don't think I could ever bring myself to stop. I have a feeling I'm losing you, so I'll bring this to an end before you slowly start to back up, hoping I'll stop talking long enough for you to make a quick getaway. Wait... Where are you going? Hey! Wait! ... Stop!!
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