Your City

November 17, 2017

My body is a skyscraper.

It's revolving doors never stop

letting you in

just for you to walk back out.


I am 50 stories tall

and you put my toes on the edge

of the top floor.

The wind could end me.


My glass windows are paper thin

but the cleaners can't scrub 

the smog of the past off.

They bust through the transparency. 


Before you tear down

My shards of metal and glass,

look at how I stand tall

as I now overlook your city.


Think before you become the wind

that forces my toes off the edge.

Think before you try to clean the smog

and bust the windows.


Please don't hold the revolving door still

to make life stop for you;

just let it go.

Just walk out for the last time.

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