The City's Breath
As corporate execs rub their hands together
In greedy glee on seats of plush leather
The man on the street smells the breath of the city
Whilst the man in the tower thinks himself quite witty
As the look down upon the masses below
Eking a living, walking hungry and slow
On the sidewalk that feels like the skin of the city
But as the markets fall and crash
The wealthy man becomes poor in a flash
And in anxiety and desperation
His turmoiled mind finds a last inspiration
To walk to the balcony with a sobbing cry
And to spread his wings with hope he can fly
And the city below opens its mouth
As the suddenly poor plummets down south
And the stench of the breath of the eternal city
Is the fetid decay of the man that was witty
Yet the steady masses still stumble along
To the beat of the street and the city’s live song
Copyright © Daniel Human | Year Posted 2015
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