Of all the people that pass me by
Though they are living none are alive.
And the lights that fuel this people's hopes
Have faded from their hearts and souls.
Cascading down the slippery slopes
of mountainous buildings this fading hope
Is leaving them all a noose, a rope
Disguised as something to help them cope.
Made of nylon, silk or cotton
With patterns to help us rise up from the bottom
To the very highest of all top floors
Where they confuse the ceiling with the sky and their confusion with more.
Trapped in cubicles they confuse dark with light
trapped in buildings they begin to fade from sight.
No family, no friends, only co-workers there.
Shared breaths and shared spaces. confusing ambition with care.