No secret pill, no cure for a restless heart.
The city’s sheep and himself he cannot tell apart.
The constant sound of trains, beats through his veins.
Its pounding force sending pain to his brain.
The city’s hum a delight to some.
Now just an electro nightmare it has become.
Mordor towers of the city close in around him.
No longer does he care the social status of a suburb can bring.
Desperation heaves in his chest.
Longs to hit the road and leave this mess.
Dreams of clean air and a place from the corporation to hide.
Family pressure and a fear of failure will be his anchoring pride.
© Deon Heemskerk 31-1-2012