The Empire

The Empire’s city is beautiful,
Complicated, intoxicating, liberating—suffocating
It’s easy to get lost in its beauty—
Even more so to get blinded by it
The steel of its towers are cold,
Yet, the peaks radiate with the warmth of the sun
An aged city built on the bones and blood of its citizens
The city of the empire calls to the world’s artist
Making the streets their canvas, their audience, their runway.
No city vibrates with as much life and ferocity
The empire show’s its’ beauty truly at night,
When the streets are alight with color
And the children of the night awake from their diurnal slumber
No city is as beautiful—or as hideous—

As the Empire’s city

-Malik Mor


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