Industrialised glam, digitalised intimacy Rich aroma, dancing lights; implicit wonders are unexplored as they hide beneath the headstock obeying society's stream of thought.
Rigour movements, sundried streets hustling and bustling with only time to beat; withering moments drape the paved sidewalk just like the bland orange tainted tree in your grave backyard (which many have described to be hollow and large)
Lingering spirits have strewn themselves over your covered sheets, cementing their curtains as the bright white light of haven glistens above their unblinking eyes constricted by the deafening silence, untoned to the faint hymns of children's laughter.
"Stop to smell the roses", the wise men speak: confidence is their ruse; do not let it deceive you. They hide amongst the similar thousands of men, yet never raising a head to any of them. These are the children of our future.
Senseless to surroundings, spray them fresh air, Move their cognitive gears to move their oil-rigged limbs; Let their creative minds sway to the rhythm of rustling trees, Revive the diverse culture of our people for these brainwashed folks; Deny the irony of being consumed, when you are the consumer.
I actually wrote this for a school competition and it won and I was really happy so take a read!