Weep, O angels,
Weep for those trapped
crying for salvation
In the City of Brass,
Sun glinting off
oppressive street corners
Light refracting off
broken souls,
those yearning, yearning
boys and girls staring in mirrors
with wrong reflections, yearning
people wishing they could be
people who love people
want to be called
people, yearning
relief of their internment
In the City of Brass,
Gleaming spires
protruding from tower tops
spears of God piercing the sky,
Pikes on which
the head of every human
rests one day, when lives
come to abrupt
terrible ends
In the City of Brass.
< Unseen