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among the skyscrapers my mind wander
how narrow my sight was
to only surmise what one might feel
realizing there are more to conquer
so i take a step back
revisiting another possible tracks i could take
louella Jan 2022
i looked down the edges of your pigeon skyscraper
i think i got an overdose of vertigo
             u stalk me like a predator
  but ur no arnold schwarzenegger
ur a skyscraper
my city scape wouldn’t be complete without you
             but ur always gonna be taller
  and ur always gonna be higher
what’s the point in trying to knock you down?
Juliana May 2021
How does it feel,
to know the secrets
of an entire city?

I mean, you can see
everything.

The handshake
for a sold deal,
a new cooperation,
a million jobs created,
another million destroyed.

How does it feel,
to see a ***** street rat,
a plastic bag of sugarcane,
vermin taking their pick
of Chinatown’s lovely leftovers?

How does it feel,
to see children
turning into fathers?

To have them grow,
hoping, praying,
that one day they’ll
be as tall as you?

That the children
will fly among the stars,
angels cursed to play tag,
for just a little bit longer.

How does it feel,
to know that one day,
your favorite will slam
his apartment door
closed for the last time,
bags packed into boxes,
driving into a tunnel,
your line of sight gone,
never to return?

How does it feel,
to know that he might
love the ocean more?
Erian Rose Sep 2019
He walked past skyscrapers and city lights
Passing the school every night.
"I'll still be here," He mumbled into the dusk
While asteroids blazed overhead.
Days followed by
In a solar system, running down.
The more he looked up -
The more he felt like gravity was letting loose
"Someday, somehow, we'll collide."
Forever hoping,
It was who they were.
They were on a collision course.
Ty Katsarelis Jun 2019
How did I get here?
Did I build this place?
I'm on the highest cliff
Gazing down towards the skyline
The skyscrapers move like trains
Bound for regions unknown
Do they ever stop?
Where do they end up?
Olivia May 2019
Standing tall and proud,
Piercing oblivion.
They stretch and scratch at the sky like daggers unsheathed -
Lost in their monumental presence,
You finally understand
What it feels like to be meaningless,
Insignificant and meager as you wander,
Ant-like, among the monoliths.
Amanda Kay Burke Feb 2019
My hopes could beat the skyscrapers,
As high as they keep flying,
There's no way to draw them back,
But relentlessly; I'm trying.
Like I'm made of glass, like I'm made of paper,
They can try to knock me down, but I will come rising from the ground, like a skyscraper
-Demi Lovato
japheth Nov 2018
keep adding floors,
my beloved building.

add a floor,
and then another.
be a skyscraper.

if you think
this is the penthouse,
think again

— you deserve to see farther.
hello. i’ve been really blessed to be very busy right now with my life and im at this point where i just keep building to the top.

hope you guys are doing well.
Brandon Conway Aug 2018
As my gaze shifted down below
my eyes, how did they behold
all the little ants going to and fro
as if they were mind controlled

Can't they see what is happening
to and fro, to and fro, to and fro
day after day, day after day, day after day
and for what?

Cheap plastic that eventually breaks
blue lights shooting up dopamine
dreams of scratch off sweepstakes
costly cups of muddy caffeine

Lets show them what being free is all about
                                                           ­               
J                                      N                        ­          F
U                                                    ­                     A
M                                                              ­           L
P                                     O                                  L
I                                                               ­             I
N                                                 ­                        N
G                                    W                         ­        G

Watch clouds shrink while ants grow
their busy bodies stop
as they finally lift their face up to show
the horror in their eyes drop

following downward along
this exciting free fall
this beautiful swan song
that I sing for all

I can hear them now
how angelic are their cries
I can see their sickly brow
the whites in their putrid eyes

Fleshy hail from the building above
came crashing into a yellow cab
spirit fleeting like a mourning dove
a body crimson mangled and drab

I leave my mark on this city
my final piece of art
I hope they find it pretty (and not pity)
this perished bleeding heart
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