Warehouse Project
A poem about raving. How exhilarating.
Technology to technicolor
Dust and dark to dance
Slow and rhythmic tempo
To our indoctrinated trance
In and out we trudge
Our political routine
Through the broken doors
Once closed we’ll never leave
Pity turned to power
In the hands of those within
Diluted expectations
What a twisted kind of win
Hours and days are relative
Time holds no divide
The walls stay soaked in memory
As the years drift on by
From the birth of a new era
To the chaos of the next
Roles played there may change
But the city never rests
A stage of revolution
Of industry and light
To bodies slick with sweat
The new symphony of night
About the Creator
Kate Rothwell
Hello! I am a 20 year old aspiring artist and poet. I'm also massively excited by all things geeky, specifically super heroes and skyrim. Ahh. Keep your eyes peeled for poetic updates, and super hero movie hype. (And more. Maybe)
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