I walk, at times, through city streets;
the sound of madness my heart meets.
The madness of a world gone wrong;
the music of the ‘streeters’ song.
So many souls without a home;
doomed by us to simply roam
the streets of cities; dangers way
the place where their children play.
We seem so pious, think they’ve chosen
to live on the edge, their futures frozen.
We try not to see them as we walk
out for our lattes and our talk
about the state of the world we see
and how it all revolves round “ME”.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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