weekend wonderland

I walk in a crowd, yet this is the loneliest time of the day for each of us. It's the end of another day and already the predators of the night are creeping in the shadows of dusk. The city has adorned her mask and already her glittering lights drill a dull headache. The city-whore may have hidden all her blemishes but the shadows do not fully hide the poverty beneath. Perhaps we have clung to the adage that 'everything happens for a reason' too much that the sight of a grimy baby sleeping on a cold floor does not bother us anymore. There is a reason behind it anyway. Do away with the gasps of shock and disbelief, it's as if sights like these are not uncommon as virgin births. I curse the Gods whenever I see grimy children begging on the streets. Whatever reason they have for letting these children live like animals, it sucks.

The city is rotting. We have put down the next generation. Like a river in a drought, the blood of our forefathers is being washed thin and weak.

I walk home in loneliness, and hope that the little footsteps do not haunt me.