When All the Glory Days Are Over

As I stroll down the road,

I notice that all the once-thriving businesses have vanished.

Now, they stand empty and boarded up,

a stark reminder that there's no room for sentiment or nostalgia.

Caught between a haze of violet vapor and a perplexing maroon maze,

I find myself amid a 24 Express drizzle.

Among auto amok

a lone letter Phi etched upon the wall,

an old curtain, tattered and surreal.

The world observed through dark lenses, worn,

like a sudden attack of abuse

wearing thin

after a few cleaning rounds.

For far too long, it has endured harshly.

Now, the time mends what's broken,

to repair whatever needs fixing and healing.

Intimate connection with the city can help me.

When there’s no one to love unconditionally,

we look for other opportunities.

Foolproof and tasty

in a long run,

when we don’t have to fight,

as all battles concluded.

Now is the time to pay the costs

of this uneven enterprise,

where nobody’s a winner and nobody’s a loser.

In the end, it’s merely a matter of a few coins

in the busker’s hat,

singing their heart out.

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Thank you for reading!