BY MADELEINE CHOU
Staff Writer
I stood atop a building tall
And looked below, unseen.
A roiling hue of gray,
A swirling mass of green
Nowhere really, that I want to go.
I stood atop a building tall
the next day and looked above.
A whirling pool of blue
A gray of most revolting hue
Nowhere really, that I want to go.
I will stand atop a building tall
tomorrow and look ahead.
A landscape of frozen time…
False but in the head
Death is the silent crowd
Above, amidst, below
the concrete streets.