The city of Roses

In a place where life and culture live

I find myself enthralled

A meshed up mass of thriving people

Living for today.

This is Portland.

The beauty of the city

Oozes through its pores.

Rich in taste, poor in heart

With sunken empty eyes

All they do is stare

The streets are clean

A great respect

For all things still and silent

But lost within the sidewalk cracks,

Is the truth that hides inside us.

A tree stands still when I walk by

She is young but sees it all

I ask her and she tells me

The homeless Burt is dead

And no one gave a CRAP

You see the rich and famous

The dirty, the poor

Living in a cramped up space

But their eyes all look the same

A salad not a soup.

To endlessly look for happiness

Is dwelling in a city, alive with art and passion

Alive with sex and drugs

But somehow, it’s not there

Cause pain is rooted deep

A quality of life, But:

Be lonely.

Be lost.

Be broken.

Be tired.

Then cover it up with makeup.

Cause people can’t see what I can see.