A confinement of cement
A land laid bare
Where nothing green,
Not even grass has consent.

A containment of steel
A land with no colour
Where flowers don’t bloom
Not in violet red or teal

A prison cell of concrete
A land that is dead
Where there is no growth
Not life does it secrete

A garment that is synthetic
A body that cannot breathe
Where smog is abundant
Not one gas is sympathetic

A city of dread
A land of zones
Where it is decreed
Not life is allowed but only dead

A place of condemned
A land with no life
Where is this we ask
Not joy is here but work
Yet this is the place in which we live

The End

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