I grew up a girl of the cliffs
where the houses would hang on for dear life
and those wild ones hang on behind the trees
glaring down from yellow lit windows
as if wondering if it's worth it to succumb to gravity and pounce upon the cars below.

I grew up with my feet in the creeks
loving how sharp rocks felt beneath
we are the kings of those mighty rivers
but every so often
they reach up and bite us
sweeping us
till only the wilds remained
and we have remained!

I grew up a girl under fairy lights
with towers rocketing up above holding my breath in long tunnels choked by sweat
and battling mountains.

We all know how our city speaks
wild and loud, a sort of twinge
voices are a different language to those who
do not already understand.

We are the wild things
crawling, running, laughing,
where really a city never should have been
Still it stands,
old as the nation,
no, older!
Waiting

look through the trees
glaring with golden eyes
with smoke stacks
with steel mills belching fire
bridges like reaching spider legs
holding music and art and Oh! These lives!
We are Kings
and we wait to pounce.