Monday Morning
These streets are lines with asphalt and gum.
The pavements filled with the morning buzz
Of people off to where they’re needed,
To work until they’re dead and done;
Their bodies decaying in the mud.
I slink selfishly away
From social norms that keep me awake.
I never ask about their day,
Or mention how likely it is to rain.
People often find it threatening,
But I’m like this because I want to know everything.
Every fibre of your being can not be captured
In a five minute small talk interaction.
I want to see their face light up
When they tell me about something they find exciting.
I want the happy, the sad,
The good, the bad, and the terrifying.
I am a part of a society
That doesn’t know how to socialise with me.
I’m taken the wrong way constantly
And I still can’t understand how everyone is so happy.
It’s like they drain my brain of the nectar they need
To maintain the same pace,
To ensure the upkeep of these streets
Lined with asphalt and gum.
The worker bees buzz
A hive starts to hum,
And honey spills over honeycomb
As the streets are kissed with sun.
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