The towering giants of corporate companies,
watching the tiny ants mill around the busy city
streets where you can smell the greasy soft
pretzels that the tourists buy. The businessmen
walk by swiftly, already late for their job in the giant
building, in a cubicle, sitting next to people they don’t
know and will never try to find out because all they
want to do is do their job like robots, not noticing,
suffocating under the heavy suit and tie.
But then they come home to their families,
and they are normal people
not ants, not robots
Pacing back and forth,
Waiting for the food that I didn’t kill,
Ready to eat.
The fence has sparks that I can’t touch.
I can hear it humming.
People are making noise while I’m trying to sleep.
My eyes hurt from the blinking lights.
I can smell prey around me but I can’t hunt it.
My stomach is full but I feel empty.