The New Yorker
I Wake.
I See.
One scurrying
Jabbering on he
Finds his nine to five home
An empire crumbling before my eyes
Only to be replaced by one
Infinitely more powerful
An illusion dissolves
As a new day's light pokes through
Truth.
One glares from his picture perfect perch
I see his white collar shining
Locked in his glass tower - subtly trapped
It was never the buildings
Or the lights
Or the sounds
One creates a world from scratch- playing God
Umbrella skeleton and piercing eyes
Form her declaration, her cry, her masterpiece
New York walks around me.
In the tower
On the artists canvas
She shows her true self.
Strong
Powerful.
One trudges along- attempting the impossible
His blue bin matches his collar, both unspeakable burdens
Locked in dismal dungeons, desperately fighting, clawing
I look around me
And see pieces of the puzzle
Together- New York