Small Town Blues
The wet pavements, and streets
underneath the grey skies.
Petrol rainbows in the gutters.
The breeze blows loud through the trees,
as I walk to the dull, dumb town centre.
The washed up rubbish of urban life,
gathers around the shops, drinking super
strength lager, and waiting for drugs,
trying to remember what it was they
forgot. The sadness clings to the scene,
but am I any better, something tells
me I’m not. Just another dreary, wet
Saturday afternoon. In another dreary
small town, just the same as any other.