Concrete Jungle

She sits on the window ledge.

Flick, flick. Back and forth, unconsciously hypnotic.

What does the world look like?

Through eyes smaller, with senses keener?

As lights travel down dark roads.

Lights belonging to others. Unknown.

Rain moves down glass, watching with anticipation

at something that is not alive.

Is it real?

Concrete jungle, does it seem dangerous, 

or exciting?

Creatures larger, not understood,

Move. Dominate unknowingly,

a world of so told equality.

Natural selection.

Is it real?

The End

91 comments about this poem Feed