London is my one
true love
A playground for
my insomnia
Her streets
chaotic and messy
But her
appearance prim and proper
She is unapologetic
With the longest
past of anyone I know
Once queen of
half the world
She shares with
me how she’s grown
She pulls me to
her heart
We see museums,
paintings and sculptures
She knows so many
faces
An array of class
and cultures
She takes me out
after the sun goes down
But it does not
feel like darkness here
With artificial
lights always on
There are no
external monsters to fear
She has expensive
taste
And robs me of my
pounds and sense
As her drunken
lips are loose
Her posture no
longer tense
Her public façade
crumbles
And reveals her
private self
Torn between duty
and liberty
Her eyes plead a
cry for help
A shadow of her
former self
She cries, and
simply doesn’t see
The past is not
what defines you
But helps shape
you to be
The city of
worlds and memories
LB
N.B. This work was submitted for my end of year assessment and as such I was not allowed to publish until after my course had finished. Any plagiarism of this or parts of this will be picked up on through anti-plagiarism software.
LB
N.B. This work was submitted for my end of year assessment and as such I was not allowed to publish until after my course had finished. Any plagiarism of this or parts of this will be picked up on through anti-plagiarism software.
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