The Metropolis
Cars whoosh by
below my balcony
like ocean waves.
I can feel the smirks
on the faces of the drivers,
though I cannot see through
their dark windows.
The world is drowning me
in its collective smugness,
eyeing the little people
who board the buses,
walk to the stores,
stand on our balconies.
They are content with the shine
of their plastic possessions,
randomly running a hand
though perfectly greased hair.
As for me,
I am unaware of this skin I have,
or the clothes on my back.
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