Our Life In the Concrete

They lied when they said that in the apartments it would be different, we would live well with sandwiches and cell phones. All TVs vomiting colours and the problems the manager would solve. When that guy killed himself in the H tower there was silence for two days. But soon the children made noise, the blenders went crazy and the sirens screamed showed new signs of our life in the concrete. Here in the apartments we are dying by the dozen, we die by the hundreds, we kill each other sometimes with lances, sometimes with glances. We wait for fridays. We want to put our toy cars on their roads. We want to see the cows and the sun before we go back. But we have no hate. In fact, we can't even hate anymore, Cause the televisions elect a new enemy every day.