City Bandits

Another day,
Another body slumped by a loaded trey.
Whether it’s mess of shells cracked open by a trigger,
Or food from a sea of dead fish puffing poison your way,
While the bamboozled drink and eat off of leaky chalices and brittle plates…

Will I die today?
Is the question that we ask in a hood where we display.
Some sort of disdain towards any difference that may leave you dismayed!
Only if you live in fashions where you fit in with a pack of wolves,
Gaining traction through the ice they’re packing under fury hoods!
Masking who they truly are…

In a graveyard,
Digging!
Is how you’ll find a sprite,
Of the Goblin type,
Hissing…
At the sight of dead bodies piled in the name of profits and a transition,
Into a life that was never theirs to begin with…
Pillaging so many ditches for some dirty business at the cost of one’s soul…

In other words,
What you really have is someone dead inside.
Trying so hard to steal another’s shine,
Since they’re so busy contemplating whether they should die,
Or,
Escape their own darkness by stealing another’s life…

But,
Eventually,
The stolen image they portray,
Fades.
Rotting away as they stare at a picture frame they’ve trapped themselves in.
Feeling renewed and eternal,
Yet cursed to face the wrinkles and wear on a face no longer recognized,
Even in the eyes of those they love…