Las Vegas Lights flicker like a broken headlight upon an expensive sedan. Rainbow results to seizure. Fashion of importance, and sex smells like perfume. Lottery through machines, Youth abandoned from the good, yet horrible life. Break the windows, Kill the bartender, Find yourself lost in an overdose of alcohol. The sun burns your skin, Along with your life. Burn holes in your pants, But right before some random stranger tips them off. Peachy? More like sour. Walk on concrete, and all you see is either success. Or just plain death. Girls killed off streets, Posers crowd the social community. Sickening, be yourself. Unfortunately, with riches of skyscrapers, Blend in, and find yourself in blenders. Slim to none, And slim just went home. Whore out the money, Meet the bitch that slashes you, Both literally, and financially. Trust is disintegrated. Forensics prove nothing, but your own sickness. Terror of amateur mafia. Own a gun, get owned by a knife. Death is all I smell. Right beside the cheap cologne, And the kill of day.
If this went to the poem book, 2000 people might leave Las Vegas. And that's a good thing. Great Poem anyways!
LC, I had no idea you could write a piece like this. It's gripping and in your face so much that you have to read it again and again to be able to understand the struggle of the narrator. I'll admit that portions of it reminded me of CSI, but either way, great work man.
