Carried on by fragile bones,
We trudge through crowded streets.
Choking on the smog-filled air,
Ignoring aching feet.
Beggars cry out for compassion,
Starving children moan.
Those who can head to the stars,
To Off-world planet homes.
Many teeter on the edge,
Between despondence and despair.
Disease, disaster, corporate masters,
Hope's becoming rare.
The cities, realms that are our prisons,
And will become our graves.
As hope runs dry we see the truth,
We know we can't be saved.
And so we serve infinitude,
And so these streets we roam.
Despair entrenched within our souls,
Entrenched within our bones.
So, fun fact, this poem was spotlighted on a blog that reviewed Blade Runner. Gave it a read myself, it's quite interesting. If you want to see, go to fanorbit dot com, and go to its Blade Runner review.