Metro
Sixty feet under lies concrete in holes.
Stiffened lacework exposing a skeleton:
The rusted frame of girders beyond,
Rotting arteries clogged with cholesterol.
Entombed in history, grime of a century,
Pumping life through the city's veins.
Where MPs and bankers jostle with vagrants,
Bodies pressed close whilst spirits drift free.
Tribal allegiances all but forgotten,
Averted eyes see neither foe nor friend.
Breaths like whispers of death from a tomb,
Ghosts burrow deep through fluorescent gloom.
I wrote this during my recent trip to London.
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