Junkyard City

• Lily Liu, Grade 12
• Poetry
• 2017

It’s a junkyard, this city,
Weathered by windswept, unwanted, waste,
And foul flavoured fuel—long forgotten.
Trash, everywhere.
There used to be many things. Somethings.
Streams. Blue skies. A sky. Ha.
And maybe clouds, layered in fluffy, velvet, rings,
And maybe birds, whirling on wind-woven wings,
And maybe schools, and civilisations, and even kings—
People dreamed in this city,
Once. Perhaps I did too—a fool’s paradise.
But the delusions were snared in the plastic bags,
Sealed by the rotting cans,
Smothered by the smoke and smog.
Killed by ourselves.
Death by our very own hands.