Like a blood moon
But far too bright
Out of place
In a purple-grey sky

For all intents and purposes
A sun, for daylight
Emanates from its ruddy face
And hurts the wandering eye.

But still no match
For the blight
Of this poison haze
Under which the city lies.

So what’s one to do
But board a flight
To another place
And bid this dump goodbye?

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