The lights…
The city lights are bright.
The people rush by, somehow looking too busy
Their destinations remain a mystery,
Maybe even to themselves.
Pushed forward by an unknown force.
They shove and elbow.
The lights…
The city lights are bright.
They blind the young, nay overwhelm them.
Like a succubus they suck their souls and feed on
their dreams,
Offer them deep bottomless promises…
An empty hole.
The lights…
The city lights are bright.
The young female paints her face,
Striving to rival the beauty of the lights.
She bears her discomfort amidst the stares,
Jeers, Cat calls, She dreams of release,
All the while losing herself in the vast humanity
here.
Her feet ache.
The lights…
The city lights are bright.
Mr. Young man feigns the bounce in his step.
His peers encourage him,
For this is the way of the lights.
His future an unclear portrait of his past,
His eyes shifty.
The lights…
The city lights are bright.
The old folk raise their fists at them.
A journey travelled with no real destination.
They cry salvation for this seemingly new world.
Houses devoid of the comfort of homes.
Children buried before them
The lights…
The city lights are bright.
I love the intensity of the make up, at some point I even forgot it was the city lights we were about. Awsum creation...
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