Sad Little Monsters

I see the faces

hidden in houses.

The cars that strut

down long, busy, streets.

I walk with the litter

as it dances in the breeze.

The small cramped spaces.

The looming walls

that brick you in.

The constant grey.

The colour in traffic lights.

The fashionistas.

The business men

with their sharp, black,

suits.

Their lack of manners.

Money means more to them,

than humanity.

They know the truth.

We are walking automatons.

We study.

We work.

We eat.

We drink.

We fuck.

We nurture.

We pay.

We retire.

we die.

A long cycle

ongoing in this crazy city.

Ongoing in every city,

every town,

every village.

We are sad,

little monsters.

M.E.

12/04/15