The Coop

Scoring sky high are the cities of dreams. 

Basking in the eagerness of the fresh faced youth,

Dreams and aspirations cling to every breath of fresh air. 

But beneath the surface lie broken dreams and willess souls, 

Bent to the system they know as life.

The cities deceive and hide their sins, 

Always searching for the next big thing. 

No youngling knows the dark side of life,

Not the warning signs nor fear of the dark reaper's scythe. 

So broken dreams will gain in number, 

As each generation is forced into labor. 

Graffiti is the cities art, 

And yet those on top rarely hide their disgust. 

Uniqueness is quashed like the souls of the youth, 

There is no place for artistry inside the plutocrats' coop.