New York in the '80s: The Cry of the Abyss
Facing the abyss, I see the crime
The city bared to its dark mime
Crime’s the mirror of misery shown
A lament in minds, forlorn and alone
Streets stage a silent, somber play
Where spilled blood speaks of more than decay
It’s the soul torn by indifference’s might
And the law, once justice, fades from sight
The poor, martyrs to their cruel fate
Trade their dignity for crumbs on a plate
While gold in the powerful’s grand display
Mocks the hunger that gnaws day by day
Crime’s not just an act, but a state
A voiceless revolt, a stifled debate
And the system, draped in hypocrisy’s veil
Watches from above, indifferent and pale
Facing the abyss, no heroes arise
Only the cry of a conscience that cries
Awaken to truths in the asphalt’s seam
See crime as a call, not a fault, but a scream
Facing the abyss, the mind’s loud plea
Truth hidden in the city’s bleak spree
Seeing crime as a call to freedom’s light
Is the first step toward breaking the night
Eduardo
Sat 14th Sep 2024 04:28
I’m glad you liked the poem and thank you for the kind words! Poetry, like any art form, evolves over time, but there’s always room for classic styles that touch the heart. Embracing your unique voice and style is what truly makes your work stand out. If you love the old-fashioned style, then that’s great, as it’s how I’ve always written… LOL! The authenticity of the old may indeed be your greatest strength. There’s something timeless and special about a style that captures the essence of its era. Thanks again, and if you can and want to, please continue following my work. 😁