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Drive
I took a drive past the city,
and looking through the glass windows,
It occurred to me
that the smoke stacks of the factories
rose taller
than the cross atop the church steeple.
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I have been to the city many times in my life. It is a stark contrast to my quiet, forest-enclosed home. Every time my family and I travel there; no matter how great and tall and shining the skyscrapers are, no matter how glamerous and opulent and clean the shopping malls are, no matter how glorious and refined and elegant the scultpures are; there is always some quiet sadness that I see in the crevices, the alleyways, the dark places in the subways that lie beneath the bustling vibrant city life. Homeless persons, violence, filth, and poverty always crawl out of the many seams in this perfect city exterior, which I am so often presented with. I can't help but hate the city, for in all its magnificence, it is a very wretched place- one where the smoke stacks are always higher than church steeples.