This city is our salvation.
This city is our prison.
This city is our home.

She awakens early,
the Violence that greets so many,
with open arms and bared teeth.

As does her sister,
Hope,
the force that keeps our despair at bay.
Keeps Death from using our own hands.

Beyond these walls lies uncertainty.
Here at least,
we know our fate.

This city is my home,
it is my heaven,
it is my hell.

If I were to die, my body would be added to the foundation of which more suffering will happen.

If I were to die, my soul would never be able to reach the highest sky.

Like a stationary cloud,
I would be stuck gazing down,
as everyday,
more come to join me in my vigil.

This city is your home,
and it will be your grave.