A sea
Of nameless faces
Garbed in grey
Wired to monotony,
Like a flock
Flying in one direction,
But never toward the sun.
Painted smiles
On plastic faces
A homogenous race
Of uniformity.
Vacant expressions
And abandoned thoughts.
Then there is you.
Strut my little peacock.
Strut.
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 7:08 AM UTC
A sea
Of nameless faces
Garbed in grey
Wired to monotony,
Like a flock
Flying in one direction,
But never toward the sun.
Painted smiles
On plastic faces
A homogenous race
Of uniformity.
Vacant expressions
And abandoned thoughts.
Then there is you.
Strut my little peacock.
Strut.
