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I
The lights in this city are beacons
Showing every move,
Laying bare every action.

Shining bright,
Burning the night.

Nineteen years have come and gone.
On broken brick streets
We, like shadows, lurk

Between walls.
The darkness falls.

By the tolling of the midnight bell,
A lone songbird sings
Our dead city’s anthem.

“Coo Ka-chu,
They come for you.”

II
A pale horse rides onward in strides
Down alleys and lanes
Searching for his master.

He is coming,
Hear the drumming.

Under the street lamps, water runs
Into the sewers below
Where rats fester and writhe.

Plague is stirring,
Feel it burning.

All of this while our sepulcher town sleeps
Under the blanket of smog.
The burning coal incubates.

Factory fires,
Like funeral pyres.

III
We lie awake in the silence of the night
With hands under our pillows
Waiting for sleep to take us.

In our dreams,
We hear their screams.

The windows are closed and bolted shut
And blinds drawn and closed
But still, the shrieking invades.

Again we pray,
For breaking day.

Marinating in our sweat, baking under sheets
We hide from the swirling madness
Seized with a primal, jungle fear.

Holding breath,
We wait for death.

IV
Finally, the red sun spreads over the horizon
Over rooftops, over chimneys
And chases away the shadow.

Golden light,
Breaks through the night.

The city comes to life again as the sun takes its throne
To reign the day once more
Over the dead city below.

Kingdom come,
The day’s begun.

The sepulcher town rises again, and hides its ugly scar;
We prisoners trapped within its walls
Left to dread the coming dusk.

Night arrives,
Terror revives.

This poem is Copyright ยฉ surfwiththealien