Have you walked the streets of late,
Have you seen the jungle we live in.
The grey stone walls are still warm,
And wet with tears in the morning -
When I walk past them on my way.
Marks of someone's hungry feet,
Etched in the dirt on the roads...
There's a story that was told once -
Its told again by the puddles
Near the by-lanes as I run and run,
I can imagine the mud splashed skirt
That tried to shy away last night,
When the cars went zooming by! I run
To find a corner of sanity! I fall
Into the many traps of this city...
Where children are hand-held and led,
Straight into the face of horror.
Where little hands learn to feel -
The texture of rough walls and dross.
While they bite into their souls
And that pain never goes away...
I run from the shadows that -
Are spread across the thoroughfares,
Where stains of blood and torn pieces -
Of cloth almost make you feel,
The torn skin that was dragged
Around the place and left in a heap
Of self-mutilating grief or regret.
I shiver every morning when I walk,
Around the streets where I now know
That the stone walls are still warm...
This city slowly grows on to me,
As it would on you, when you stroll,
Into the embrace of the neon lights.
And as you sink into its noises,
Life tries to wrap you in its arms ,
With a silent kiss of death...