Burn the City

I am the city.
Can’t you behold my signature flashing lights?
And I do fancy that I have the most grandeur tower of all.
After all, this is the reality I refuse to comprehend.

But on the tallest building that reflects the dark side of the moon,
I feel an annoying crack, wavering and weaving like a starved parasite.
It makes me feel uneasy, a nation comprised of fools.
Inconsistency shoulders dilemma and invites vacancies.

I spend ages hunched, drafting my flawless propositions,
A proposal fueled with promised perpetual hope.
But all I see when I survey my progress from my pedestal
Is nature, reminding me of the consequences I chose to neglect;
My oppressor.

But I will never stop, never stop running.
Until my feet give in, my lungs burst,
And everything around me is charred to ashes.
Because I know if I stop now-
I won’t be the city, the glorious burning city.