I am in a city of admirers admiring admirers, a city cloned from a rough sketch, that has been traced in disappearing ink, a producer of diluted DNA in its quoting of the quotes within the tattoos across its face.
Its people walk in pace like sheeple, but at-least the sheep have their fur, as the people scurry in synchronicity from the burr.
Its cold outside, and getting colder.
Ill stand right here, and observe.
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 12:10 AM UTC
I am in a city of admirers admiring admirers, a city cloned from a rough sketch, that has been traced in disappearing ink, a producer of diluted DNA in its quoting of the quotes within the tattoos across its face.
Its people walk in pace like sheeple, but at-least the sheep have their fur, as the people scurry in synchronicity from the burr.
Its cold outside, and getting colder.
Ill stand right here, and observe.
Request permission to use this poem