Prophecy
Black Columns...
mar the night skyline
Pillars...
of industry
False colours...
fill the scene
Like tainted rainbows....
rusting away
A crime...
against the sound spectrum
The rumbles...
of a million grating drones
Man's mockery...
of what nature perfected
Rivers run grey...
with the screams...
of imperfection
When does it stop?
when we destroy ourselves?
No....
it doesn't stop
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