It isn't at all
Very hard to remember
The first time it was seen
In sickly heaves and shudders
From sighs and groans of the Earth
Like Pandemonium rising in the depths of Hell
A new terrestrial architecture approaches
Like violently spawned mountains
Formed by the colliding masses
These walls, these gates
Though not simply rock
Rise up against each other
Seemingly assembled yet toppling
Falling half over again as they rise
Onto itself, and rising up again
Nigh unto the heavens they go
A self-propagating shame in madness
Green fields and pasture are slowly consumed
By the slow but tenacious upheaving soil
As if forced to vomit buried secrets
By some vengeful cosmic emetic
Come now to wage Justice
With familiar, cryptic images
Made the worse by their suddenness
The nature of their appearance here, now
Regardless to apparent sickening disfigurement:
Behold! These symbolic castles of humankind!
Concrete and steel first produced there
Brick and block soon there, up, forced
Twisted materials slowly forming
The common sights with which we know
But twisted beyond normality in any sense-
A hospital, it slowly was made, in some mystery
Somewhere from under the soil, pushed into reality
But dark and broken, crumbling bricks birthed upwards
Gathering darkness in the clouds and sky above
It's ugliness broke first on dawn's horizon
Seeping, too, as it grew, oil and filth
From each of it's window and doors
And smoke from out it's roof
Broken, damaged, in every aspect
A symbol of help, of hope, of mercy
Slowly and constant it creeps out by hours
Decimating around it all to which it makes contact
It grows, it grows! Like sickly urban sprawl, everywhere
Unceasingly, into the city, it's masonry tendrils take hold
And there is no relief to be had, and no one to make any stand
Against such twistedness- A unknown surrealist's disease
Against the ghost of the dead, of the phantasm of war
It churns, higher and higher, it's infirmary towers
And, now, and again that vulgar seeping tar flows
A thick and choking blackness insistent to pour
Sometimes instead darkly crimson as if blood
And then once more blacker than night
It is the precursor to the advancing hell
Which has come to seek who knows what souls-
For those whose apathy offered the opportunity
Or who motivated the impressionable to take up action
For those who willfully disbanded community just to fight
Or for all of those whom attempted to keep it at bay
Without so much as thought for their dear fellows
Who for them and all the others risked lives
No one knows what madness has caused it
Or if it crawls forth with purpose
All they know is that perhaps
They must deserve this
And have no power
To stop it