by erikash03


A cold mist has descended,
   twixt the stockings and the leg,
in a rusted city of restless sleep
   as the flora grows grey and the fauna brown.

A quiet rumble has tumbled
   into the streets.
In rainbow puddles it dwells,
   ominously hinting at a final dream.

In the evergreens weeps
   the charred-up beasts
whom no machinery can quell,
   in the dimming of hell.