The Twilight's Song

I walk past the promise
Of good prevailing over evil
And gods killing the demons
Into a lane
Where sunlight refuses to enter
And life ferments with garbage.

All that is unwanted in the city
Finds refuge here.

This lane is not on Google maps
Nor is it under the gaze of
The omnipresent, omnipotent, and the benevolent.

Those who claim they are happy
Collect wood and gunpowder
For gigantic effigies
And those, who have made peace with both happiness and misery
Wait for the leftovers.

This dark lane Is a small black hole
That will gradually swallow the city
Some day
Maybe, a hundred years later
Or maybe tomorrow
With the morning smog.