In the concrete jungle many fumble to keep their head above water. The power one craves to keep others at bay, at best leads them to slaughter the ones they love-the ones closest to their hearts, because in reality, all that they could achieve is to eat their own beating hearts.
In the concrete jungle there is pity or joy. No heroes no voice that can’t be drowned out by the cries of others. Dare you to leave the shelter, swelter in the heat where no father or mother can save you now, yet somehow you struggle in your own fears. When you killed your own heart, and left dead on the spot, now who’s gonna shed a tear for you?