My city... I was here before it was even one, my toys are older than the high-rise buildings. Yet all of my oldest dreams have long been gone, this is where new people from far-away are dreaming.
People dream to visit here even for a day, I can't count the years I've been trying to escape. People travel here to have a sip of coffee, even the taste of water here can tell that I am sick.
In the inner city, while everyone takes photographs, I try my best to walk with my shoulders not dropped. In the chic cafes where others strike a pose, I knew I never wanted more, I had my dose.
My city, that many people dream of visiting and living in, why, then there's me who's here and feeling livid in. My now-larger-city that still feels like a small town, I feel suffocated, as if all my life I'm in a tight gown.