Aku dilawan kota (2)
You flash your skyscrapers and subway lines,
your billboards screaming fortune, fame, and more.
But past the neon glow and advert signs,
you’re grinding gears and blood on every floor.
I packed my life and rode your crowded trains,
traded small-town dust for concrete air.
I walked your streets, learned your lanes—
but you don’t give a damn, you never play fair.
I find myself in the middle of the street
trying to walk and I scream on my first step
burning excruciating pain I cannot compete.
A black dog, chewed on my leg
for a split second. as the rubber
meets the bone, as my body becomes
another casualty, slammed into
your unforgiving asphalt.
And you laugh. You fucking laugh.
You sent me your dog not with teeth,
but rubber wheels, with black helmet
and dead eyes, and he didn’t even stop.
You coward don’t have the balls to
look me in the eyes as you beat me.
The X-ray shows the damage:
fractured trust,
shattered plans,
broken hopes and dreams,
bleeding despair.
The doctor said I’m lucky.
LUCKY?
You call this LUCKY?
You want gratitude?
While you pay me with a hit-and-run ambush?
Where is the poetry in that?
Where is the kindness in your tangled traffic?
Where is the apology in your sirens?
You’ve got the rhythm of a broken machine,
a soul of a debt collector, with smog-choked skies,
where the oceans bleed into the cold cracking concrete.
I should have known better.
I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER.
And you—
you go on.
You fucking go on.
The city always wins.
It always does.