The Motionless Mass

Grim-faced disfigurement,
their features of life.
Souls pacing in rhythm,
self-conscience whose right.

They surge through the streets
and pause at the lights.
A system so dense,
it rivals the night.

The truth without lies
through intense imagery.
Facing down time
with the same synergy.

The people of a city,
Without passion they trend,
will forever pace in rhythm
until it comes to an end…