Flying Free

-
In an alley's grimy silence where streetlamp shadows creep
a chilling truth resounds through this city's nightly sleep.
“Falling feels like flying," a whispered, creepy verse
as footsteps echo softly I could think of something worse.

Concrete giants stand their edges razor-sharp
and at our city's surface on railing’s pointed barb.
"Falling feels like flying,” a mad loon’s crazy tale
told in smelly corners where body’s are for sale.

Down those murky filth strewn lanes no churchbells ever toll
so dance some whirling jig to daft stories freely told.
"Falling feels like flying," a ghostly haunting spell,
in our complex high-rise city to a madmen’s scary yell.

Beneath the flickering streetlights in yellow sodium gloom
a date and dance with unknown fools and off the roof we zoom.
"Falling feels like flying," a sinister refrain,
in this urban labyrinth no nonsense is constrained.

So tread with caution where danger's whispers hiss
in that midnight cityscape where sad soldiers reminisce
that falling feels like flying, as we hurtle all around,
as free as any forest bird - until you hit the ground.



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