Friday, 12 October 2012
Estate kids think in mazes,
so they can not open up
to the world around them.
The morning suits are
tweeting their life away,
waiting for the trains
announcement to their
The criminals are always working,
their victims meet them in alleys and
stair wells, there acts are justified
by the society that robs people.
Non working mothers conspire
in conversations about pointless
turmoils and relationship status.
their therapy is cured by spending
money they don have in the local mall.
Non working men get drunk
through their days, chain
smoking as they burn their money
in one day... for the next week
they isolate in their prison
until the next pay check.
Old men betting on that horse, as
one gets his winning, Spends it on
the horse... His life is a never
ending race as he is whipped by
the gambling demon.
As I strike a conversation with a
homeless man, just words of sob
He gives me praise for stopping,
I tell him to move on from his past...
the next day he dose not remember
But I left my angelic presence.
As the daily beggar asks me for money,
I ask him "what's my name?"
he looks at me with awe and
moves on to the next smile.
The city is a grey place, which reflect
grey moods, I ask the divine to bring
sun everyday, it seems thats the only
time people smile...
"The city is a grid made to keep you thinking
in a maze, nature is there to open your heart
and is a message letting you know to just be"