us and Them

A dying metropolis
Is really a necropolis peeling off its own skin;
Like we all do, individually,
At random, or what we would say, free will,
Until there builds a consensus,
A rather increasing density of the same.
Then, as a slow burn, arrives
A transition, re-entrant and vulgar,
Devoid of isms and ities,
The cycle simply remains eternal.

And if you came looking for hope
Look away, for there is none.
Look even further into the future
Let them know of our failure.

p.s. Wish the world was as Pink as the title.