By Iluminar

We were accidents, happenstance,

Idle thoughts in this forsaken place;

Underdogs against the odds,

(Not even) contenders in the race.


We were warriors born of ingenuity,

Sewn rough on back alleys and side streets;

And rose up like desert colossi

From the detritus and broken concrete.


In the dust we make our stand,

Reaching for something beyond our grasp;

Never knowing or even caring

That this revolution would be our last. 


Then come the dawn, we'll leave this carbon plane,

Hearts and souls shot full of lead;

To be kings (and one day, gods)

And walk among these cities of the dead.


Created: Oct 23, 2014

Tags: fight, urban, dystopia, death, rhyming, city, transcend, battle, transcendence, poem

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