A man got lost in the thick of the city,
A forest of people or the walking trees,
He wandered around, for hours and days,
Yet couldn't find the moss to guide his ways.

He looked up at the stars,
Looking for direction,
But all he saw,
Was the light of delusion.

Our man was no hero,
Nor a person of the people.
He knew what he learned,
Through his own deductions.

No signboards guiding,
No hotspots lighting,
Just a lost sense of direction,
The type that leads to conclusion.

And through these lost days,
Did our anti-hero find,
His unpaved road,
His route home.