With Ashen Hands Around Our Throats

Black clouds plume over the capital and the ash starts to fall. Grey snow, Black rain in the summer streets. 60 hours burning, Death creeps into homes through the cladding. Flames dance through corridors. Human cost, stay put, no profit loss. Blood and ash on the hands of landlords. We still bleed by the month for the privilege of living in a time bomb. Resist to regulate, launch inquests in the hopes we all forget. The invisible hand revealed by the stains that mark it. (It's choking us, We're dying here, 3rd degree casualty) So we stay displaced, one eye to the fire escape. Black our lungs, become statistics to drive change. Renovations paid for in lives; Innocence and negligence. Death calls, But never says who's at fault. How many lives 'ti they answer for their crimes? Blood and ash on the hands of landlords. And look what embers remain. 3 days pain. 2 years and counting, we remain. Look them in the eyes and say what you tell yourself; we made our money though. Clear out your conscience, what's it worth? Justified inactions. We pay up and wait to burn. Do you think you can't be touched? Everyone who did this has a face, name, address. If they think they're fireproof, they are wrong.

Submitted by Lake of Tears — Nov 13, 2025