Learn more about other poetry terms
Have you ever heard the story about the rose that grew from concrete The one that everyone thought its growth would be obsolete The one everyone thought would wither and die
She always said the leaves were t u r
Light swallowed by shadows Hearing voices nobody owns Disembodied, and paralyzed Good god, I’m PETRIFIED Falling and falling
One step forward Two steps back Is this ever true One move closer Two backtracks Creates new paths for you One truth found Two lies learned
S C A R F R E V E R S I B L E I did not intendit this way a foundation u n f i x e d
Concrete Jungle City terrain converges with the murky sky above in the dusty shade they share. A symphony of sound permeates the humid air as machines and people hum through their daily cycles;
Having a heart of stone is considered an insult, But what about having a heart of concrete? Cold, gray, hard, rough concrete. But what is that concrete were covered in art?
Concrete wasn’t always made so harsh and solid In fact it was mostly straw When I walk without my shoes on It rubs my poor feet raw
climb down toward shame thought burning why I bother trying? angels never wait above drag from
A Look Through My Eyes. Outside stroll, what do I see? I see the charisma, the spirit, of New York City. Skylines, and skyscrapers out in the distance. My oh my what a sight to witness.