Floods of people
spilling over the smelly grimy greasy ground.
Gingerly stepping ’round the rubbish
left behind by fellow travellers.
How to see beauty in all this?
This path sickens me.
Yet here I must remain
a drop in the flood of men.
Floods of people
spilling over the smelly grimy greasy ground.
Gingerly stepping ’round the rubbish
left behind by fellow travellers.
How to see beauty in all this?
This path sickens me.
Yet here I must remain
a drop in the flood of men.