Left in Preston

The Bus Station by The Snork maiden

 

Brutal beauty,

Your ample curves reach up to the sky and flirt with the clouds.

Why were you placed here, where no-one would ever love you?

Where your brutal heart would be hollowed out and filled with decay, grease and piss.

 

Brutal beauty,

Countless engines run from inside you,

Flooding the city with a heart beat, with life.

But they made your own heart beat a ticking bomb.

 

Brutal beauty,

You have seen everything through your concrete veil.

But through the rise and fall and broken promises,

You have always remained faithful.

 

Brutal beauty,

Your dress is the wrong colour,

Your shape is unfashionable,

You are old.

You do not fit this town anymore.

 

Brutal beauty!

Now they whisper behind your back and make plans to destroy you.

They will tear you apart, drag your entrails out and grind up your bones.

The engines that once coursed through your veins will flatten your grave.

You will no longer be spoken of.

 

Farewell, brutal beauty.

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