Gun-shy

The morning in the world of grey,

The hustling for their monthly pay.

Stumbling across the slated walk.

They queued as a crowd of yawns,

Weary of their duties to new borns.

The engines whistled past as I heard,

Their identical melodies drift afar.

The buses roared in their lanes of blood,

The surrounding cars created their metallic flood.

I crossed the river upon a bank created by changing lights,

And saw the blue and red flashing past my sights.

Only to stop a lady in the blood lane,

A ticket and the words like “don’t ever do that again!”

The drones passed about deaf to the sounds,

As I took flight by way of the soaring bird.

The clouds splatted my vision here and there,

I heard the screams below of a domestic pair.

Down past nimbus 4 a man lay broken on the floor,

His wallet was full till stranger balaklava tipped him poor.

Where were the blue and red flashes who enforced the law?

If only society could see what this bird had saw (soar)…

The lights stood dim with sockets unplugged,

Justice wanes thin with a society of thugs.

So they hold their badges high and proud,

Stamping on the whisperers, deafened to the loud.