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Poetry: Uncertainty

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by Monster

My head is in disarray.
Pulsating.
Throbbing.

T he city streets are astounding,
but disturbing.

Every cough and sniffle around me,
I feel as though I am being suffocated,
and being consumed by disease.

I feel dizzy.
Nauseous.

I see somebodys half eaten and decayed lunch
lying upon the sidewalk.
Being walked upon
and scrambled
amongst the pavement.

A meal fit for the homeless.

As I walk ahead,
I feel more and more like them...

Rushing.
Rushing to get nowhere.

Where is it that they are going?

Mindless drones.
Half dead zombies.
Marching the city streets.

Up and down,
weaving in and out.
Intertwining,
like slithering snakes.

Where is it that they are going?

Corrupt.
Commercialized.
E verbody the same;
Clomping in their heals...
like a heard of sheep and cattle.

Where is it that they are going?

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