The Dead City

I came to this city with great expectations.
To start afresh with new risks and ambitions.

It was poles apart from my hometown
And I tried befriending people around.
Learning to please and smile,
Searching for familiar voices
While getting stuck in the traffic
And running hard through the noises.

The city was bleeding,
Exuberant and noisy
But still, it charmed people with its glaze and glamour.

It used to burn in May, cry in August
And choke in October.
‘It will be dead soon’, I used to think.
It was almost on the verge to sink.

I remembered those aunts who loved dressing,
Those uncles who were sweet and caring,
Those times when my breakfast and lunch would collide.

Finally, it was time for me to wrap up and unfold my maps.
I had to leave behind things I gathered.
I was fortunate to have no pets or kids of my own,
And thus, smoothly transitioned to another place which wasn’t disaster-prone.

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