The cracks in the pavement
shiver with fear
as the crowd
carelessly stomps upon
the withered concrete surface.
They shake with
the constant thought
they could be broken into,
shattered at the core.
The streets laugh
at the trembling gray paste
because they know
not of pain’s limit,
but of his only virtue.
Cars race upon their surface,
day in and day out,
speeding and gliding
across their thick black exterior.
Sidewalks and roads
are in perpetual revulsion,
despising the existence
of the giants who continually
destroy them.
Accidentally?
Maybe not.
But how are those cracks in the sidewalks
supposed to know something like that?
