Under slate grey sky

Flap, swish, swoop

Flap, swish, soar

Letting the air take hold

he glides as the wind roars

watching the world unfold

he flies, under slate grey sky

hearing the city cry

the silver towers that pierce the clouds

causing tears from above to blanket the ground

watches the scattering crowds

like rats fleeing a sinking ship

to explore a new town, they think themselves so hip

except these rodents are out on the prowl

to take the night and turn it upside down

As the new crowds rise

so full of energy, desire in their eyes

blood on their lips from biting too hard at the thought of it

the night is young, dangling threads are there to knit

the nervous excitement of a bustling scene

they want to fit in, but not blend into the scenery

he has seen their type before

full of hot blood and thirsty for more

Oceans of people - all feet and arms

seas of mingling swaying, sweat stained bodies, so full of charm

with the aid of some drink

some white powder to snort from a sink

the music enables them to give way to their urges

violent surges

passions that rise to the surface

fights that stain the floors with crimson

from within a glimpse at what could have been

A sea of red

A sea of dread

I see where it could have led

A sea where waves would have left for dead

Along these battered streets, where soles of shoes have worn thin

like the souls of man wearing them in

a second scene - an underground den

a huddle of unfortunate men and women

they just want to escape

to sleep peacefully for a night

to turn off  the plight as easily

as you or I turn off a bedside light

The star obsessed lovers by the river

under the glare of the diamond moon's shimmer

the reflections show that he cares

the words that she speaks lay it all bare

but there is apprehension in the air

tension that all is not as it appears

he wants to dive deep, commit to a love avowed

let his heart speak for his mouth

doesn't know the right words to use

so, he sits on subdued

Old town dancehall, long gone but remembered by all

cricket fields and village halls

a time so long ago

now it just feels like a TV advertising commercial

when did the world turn so antisocial?

Open the history books

the diaries of days left hidden

from eyes that may look

they tell the stories of truth

of trust and hope in futures golden

into days now just known as olden

those dark days before social media swayed our nation

into a zombie infested island of hatred

Thanks For reading.

Peace & Love.

Kyle.