Caracas Capital Of Death

 

Surrounded by mountains and the Guaire river,

Venezuelan capital is like the perfect postal.

Modern buildings only from 1970,

Hills full of poor brick houses.

In the sidewalks: garbage, threes and thieves,

On the streets 2003 Toyotas, 2009 Chevrolets

And buses where everybody is standing up.

In the subway is impossible to sit, move or breath.

In the morgue: corpses have no space,

The city has twenty, thirty murders per day.

Criminals are the bosses of this war.

Like a nightmare, running is not enough

To hide or to escape from Caracas

Where nobody knows if today is the last day.

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