Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
paytongxPoems
Cars, Cars beeping at other cars, Cars beeping at people, Trucks, taxis, lines, People in lines, stores, people in stores, People speaking different languages, Buildings towering overhead, people in offices. It smells of gasoline. A couple more blocks and it smells like Garbage… Then sweat. People left, people right. Planes, Trains, boats, subways. Bridges, Sidewalks. Bookstores, coffee shops. People yelling, Homeless people with sleeping bags, Apartments, houses. Feeling the wind on your skin Gives you forceful chills, Driving, Driving, Driving, Up your spine Down your arms to your fingertips, Awakening your body. Awakening your body so you can’t Move. The sounds. The sounds of the streets, Plummeting through your, Ears, Like a siren. Sirens; You can hear the sirens. The closer it gets, the harder it is to Handle. A million things race through your mind at once. Your anxiety goes Up. Then down. Now you feel the Sweat Dripping Down Your Face. You’re just one. One of the Many. No one cares about What you look like Or what you Do. But you Try To impress them Anyway. It’s just like you’re a spec of Dust, Floating in an open Room. No one cares, But you try Anyway.
0
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 5:10 PM UTC
The City
Cars, Cars beeping at other cars, Cars beeping at people, Trucks, taxis, lines, People in lines, stores, people in stores, People speaking different languages, Buildings towering overhead, people in offices. It smells of gasoline. A couple more blocks and it smells like Garbage… Then sweat. People left, people right. Planes, Trains, boats, subways. Bridges, Sidewalks. Bookstores, coffee shops. People yelling, Homeless people with sleeping bags, Apartments, houses. Feeling the wind on your skin Gives you forceful chills, Driving, Driving, Driving, Up your spine Down your arms to your fingertips, Awakening your body. Awakening your body so you can’t Move. The sounds. The sounds of the streets, Plummeting through your, Ears, Like a siren. Sirens; You can hear the sirens. The closer it gets, the harder it is to Handle. A million things race through your mind at once. Your anxiety goes Up. Then down. Now you feel the Sweat Dripping Down Your Face. You’re just one. One of the Many. No one cares about What you look like Or what you Do. But you Try To impress them Anyway. It’s just like you’re a spec of Dust, Floating in an open Room. No one cares, But you try Anyway.
paytongx
Written by
paytongx
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 5:10 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem