A blur of green dancers,
Grouped, huddled together,
Movements, aimless as can be.
A slash of black, flies across the clouded background,
Descending, gracefully and effortlessly.
In flight, it ***** it’s means of freedom.
The brutes of buildings stand ugly,
As the horizon remain fenced.
Twisting and winding are the dull pathways,
Paved, covering the misery of life,
On which various realms of existence walk,
Some covered in shredded rags, barefoot and starving,
Some on wheels reclined in leather seats.
Bridges hang overhead,
Giant entities hovering,
Connecting people as well as destroying lives.
Yet life prevails as wonderers take use,
Of a corner enough only to fit half their soulless bodies,
And the constant four legged companion watches on,
By his side, always by his side.
For in the corners of hell, we find a savior,
A miracle is always to be born,
And an angel is always to be found,
Amongst the crowd of evil.