Bottom Of The Bridge ( Compilation of Proses )

xviii.

Bustling city, full of lights, different cars in-line. I live here, in a place that they somehow called paradise. Where money runs the town, many opportunities waiting, great schools, big houses and innovative transportation.

Underneath the table, there was a lonely place; a forgotten paradise that is called "land of the poor" where city's trash was thrown. Many living in this place to survive and strive against life. They are the ones that almost thrown out of the umbrella. People never reached them, unless the internet wants to.

In a life where time was tested, I was here trying to survive the so-called-paradise. We are the ones who runs the city yet we were forgotten like the trash that they throw in our town. What are we in this world? Someone who was born poor and will always die starving? Do everyone really understands us? Or just pretending to listen but still keeping their eyes shut?

"Doves will always put the crows aside"

In the city
- pinken