Where’s the day going? I guess it’s time to write a poem
On a wanderlust mission across the city I roam
I board an overcrowded tram
Sweating slightly but who gives a damn?
Freshly showered, what was the point of that?
It’s hot in the city & my mood is flat
Next stop is mine, I alight at the Grand Canal
My stomach is heaving, I’m not feeling so well.
I arrive at my friend’s house, my stay is short
Nothing but sickening nausea to report
Travelling home by bus, I am sick as a dog
An early night for me, I will sleep like a log.
Faith In The Ripple Effect 