Neon Wings

The city's an illusion,
a quilt work of hopes and dreams.
Just a congenial facade,
where nothing's quite what it seems.

Sex emerges from its cocoon,
flexing its neon wings at night.
And the bars open like petals,
as fledgling morals take flight.

Truths are shadows in the dark,
and barely visible here.
Where even indelible smiles
fade and often disappear.

It's a place missing a soul,
that has lost track of its heart.
And within the light of day,
the illusion falls apart.