Like rabbits in a hutch, I stare at
The walls that hold so many lives
Within its belly.
Council estates is what the Brits call it
Projects is what the Americans call it
A project to achieve what?
An estate without acres?
Crowded lives pleading for life
Burnt out halls filled with needles
Discarded condoms on dirt floors.
Empty bottles meant to smooth
Empty souls left to soothe
Crushed feeble dreams
Weighted by pissed soaked walls.
Lives lost before they began
A national statistic
Engineered capture of ambition.
Joker is one believes in better
Siren sounds are the latter
The outside world intrudes
The dark landscape includes.
Whore teasing her customer
Who is the pimp?
Who is getting pimped?
Society trickles hope through policy
Socialites pay burden for neglect
Neglected pay burden to socialize
No invitation to political parties.
Angry young mothers
Desperate Dan and Hopeless Harry
Hurrying back to booze.
When will it be enough?
When will we exit the Brexit?
Mind set beyond a specific mindset.
Fragile class structures
Cracking glass fractures
Revolution and evolution
Solution and dissolution.
Light cracks slowly through dawn
Rain breaks upon grey fog
Hope touches the nation’s soul.
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