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Rated: E · Poetry · Computers · #1544975
About a city and the lives on the unthinking inhabitants
My city's made of steel.
The birds do not sing,
They tweet,
a selection of three predestined tracks.

Children laugh and play.
They laugh because of expectations,
And to fill the silence.

My city's made of steel.
It has a museum and a motorway
But no soul.

Tiny, unimportant people
Shuffle from work to home to work again.
They run on tracks.

My city's made of steel.
It has hedges and shrubs
To disguise metal framework.

My city's made of steel.
The people never realise
That they are merely components.
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