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travis-wagnerPoems
The view from my window is static as stone. Four high rises mechanically probe the grey skyline, their scale-like, cemented   girth obscuring the world within eyeshot. Sickly city trees weep and mourn, but cannot be heard through double paned glass and eggshell white prison walls, which house by solitary confinement. Lives are lived hermetically sealed. Humans reside in spaces better suited for use as fishbowls.                                                                                    Who longs for the ocean? We hide away, smothering our vibrant-hued colors we once let each other see.                                                                                     Go and make rainbows, please.
0
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 2:39 PM UTC
City Skyline
The view from my window is static as stone. Four high rises mechanically probe the grey skyline, their scale-like, cemented   girth obscuring the world within eyeshot. Sickly city trees weep and mourn, but cannot be heard through double paned glass and eggshell white prison walls, which house by solitary confinement. Lives are lived hermetically sealed. Humans reside in spaces better suited for use as fishbowls.                                                                                    Who longs for the ocean? We hide away, smothering our vibrant-hued colors we once let each other see.                                                                                     Go and make rainbows, please.
Written by
travis-wagner
American
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 2:39 PM UTC
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