GRIM

MERHABA MY FRIENDS

Stark and bland
clouds drift over land,
a touch of light, here and there
streets are almost bare,
except for drifting litter
will make the dustman bitter,
broken wire fences all around
broken glass strewn on the ground,
unkempt grass takes up the space
were once was, yet now no trace,
of buildings that stood in the open space
the sadness on the workers face,
once a thriving place of working sound
all pulled down with a thumping sound.

(Turkwords)


TURK :)