Monsters rise from the ground,
wrought from iron, glass, and concrete.
An old world under shadows drowned,
their conquest nearly complete.

Grotesque forms rise to the skies,
Heavens territory is ceded.
The old from consumption dies,
its ancient spirit depleted.

Soulless blocks of glass now stand,
where once stood old forms proud.
Gone are the days of beauty grande,
replaced with a more modern brand.

(c) Copyright 2016 TheNightShift