A Sonnet for the Princess of Ruins

The sky is brown with spores of dirty black

and flames gnaw chunks of rusted metal scraps

a lonely home: a squatting cardboard shack

inside the box, a sickly puppy naps

among the ruins stands a little girl

she dawns a crown of rotting cans of Coke

a leap, a smile, a final awkward twirl

she laughs despite her lungs that gurgle smoke

a tattered dress gives way to jutting bones

her feet are bare, her skin is ash-stained grey

a dying person somewhere distant moans

she coughs, then lets her tiny, weak voice say

i am the princess of this burning town

i'll rise above my world that's been cut down