Poem: Death of N.R.Y.G.

Posted on 06/30/2021 by Pisaries Creator

Pick up the phone, no one answers.
I miss you already, and search for a dial tone.
On a cold night, the heat rises too high.
Quell the sadness by any means.
Unnecessary to state the obvious.
There is no headstone and no etched name.
Only a dying city.