My City Is Dying

First poem in villanelle form

This city is nearing its end.
Her people are growing tired,
But this city is my only friend.

Her wounds will not mend
This situation is growing dire,
This city is nearing its end.

Fading like a passing trend;
Exposed like the secrets of a liar,
But this city is my only friend.

Her call for help will never send,
All her bridges she killed with fire.
This city is nearing its end.

And I can see the smoke ascend,
The city is starting to burn higher,
But this city is my only friend.

I can only watch the city transcend,
Nothing to stop this burning pyre.
This city is nearing its end,
But this city is my only friend.