It starts with shrugging, "I don't care,"
diversions, loss, thoughts unaware,

discarded ashes, cigarettes,
the wrappers, cans, unread leaflets,

a wad of gum, some drops of oil,
or battered glass, the crumpled foil,

a politician's promise broke,
a siren, crime, commercial smoke.

Then cracks appear in weak concrete
as potholes pox a stricken street.

Foundations lapse from disrepair
behind the streetlight that's not there

where shadows crawl across the waste
within this city made of haste.

Squalor © Copyright 2021, Robert J. Tiess.

View this poem at AllPoetry.com

"To Hell with It" theme challenge prompt - link: https://allpoetry.com/contest/2789628-To-Hell-with-It
Submitted: October 3, 2021

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