There’s a cemetery on Forest Road
As romantic
Old
And atmospheric as one could ask for,
but it has become crowded.

The dead are now squeezed between a superstore
Penitentiary
A parking lot
And roads.

The bright lights,
A mark of any city,
Invade the sleep of the dead
Constantly illuminating their resting places
And as the lights get brighter
Due to increased innovation,
The dead lose more ability to sleep.

Progress always marches over the bones of ancestors
Sometimes it is unintentional,
But it is always stupid and soul-crushing.