A day in Dystopia III

 

In shattered remnants of a dream,

Once stood a city by the stream,

A tale of ruin and despair,

In London's fog and haunted air.

The Thames, now blackened, winding slow,

Through broken bridges, whispers low,

A testament to days long gone,

Where shadows dance and specters roam.

Majestic spires, now cracked and worn,

Their grandeur aged, their beauty torn,

A landscape scarred by time's cruel hand,

In silence, London's ruins stand.

Through empty streets and alleys grim,

Where once was life, now shadows dim,

Nature's grasp, relentless, clings,

To crumbling walls, her ivy sings.

The rusted clock, a symbol grand,

In solemn stillness, tall, unmanned,

Big Ben, a silent sentinel,

Of stories lost, and dreams that fell.

Above, the skies a somber hue,

A shroud that veils the stars from view,

With muffled cries and misty shroud,

The remnants of a city proud.

In eerie calm, the whispers glide,

From cobblestone to riverside,

They weave the tales of joy and strife,

Of London's long-forgotten life.

In haunting beauty, there it lies,

A testament to fate's demise,

Her story etched in rust and stone,

A city broken, yet unbowed.