Hopeless

London is a place to sleep 

Say the homeless on the street The favourite place of the undesirable. 

As I ride the London taxi to Sewer Street 

To the path of the forgotten gold and rats - 

No Pied Piper here;

Just houses of forgotten gardens -

A playground of children;

The robot generation within two dimensions 

Which one is reality?

A suburb of let-out beds and clutter. 

I scavenge for my meal and

The microwave goes ping.  

As I throw the cardboard in the bin outside 

The man settles down to sleep

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