sky giants

[cacian]

how pretty does the world
today?
it looks like roses
in a field of hay
the sun shines
only when it rains
and cold grabs only
when it warms

city walks are
stained with taint
cobbles block
they stretch the wreck
damaged by the weight of age
giant scrappers pave
the heights
peaking tall they hide
the fate
skies are barely seen for days

under strain,
time is haine
faces from behind a haze
appear in vain
vacant they parade
the pain

how pretty does the world
today?
it feels as if grotesque
is reign
it looms ahead with trash and bait
forever forging dark to blame
and saine shall never visit here again