Long Day And Lost Souls I stand in a dark, dank side street. People running around shouting, others standing and watching, I glance round and see those that watch, with twisted features of despair and hatred. I continue to run around with the rest of my kin, things must be done and every moment is precious. I look to the building in front of me, thick black smoke rising from broken window pane. As I enter, I am greeted by absolute darkness and a heat that forces me to drop low, stay cooler. In this murky hot hell I am not alone, in two's we always travel, my kin and I. Onwards we move fumbling and feeling our way, hoping never to find what we seek. An arrow to my heart, as hands find what they seek, Is time our friend? Or are we too late, with winged foot we fly, Hermes himself would not catch us as we take our find out into the cool night air. Standing in the dark, now wet night, we hand over our parcel to waiting nightingales, ready to fly away to safe haven. This time as I glance round, when I see the same watching faces, my thoughts are of how and why. How did these people come to live this existence, one of pain and suffering, how has it happened. Is it nature or nurture. And why has this social underbelly been allowed to exist, why where they left to rot in this gutter, within which I now stand, and perhaps there is a where? Where is the will to live that has been taken from these souls. This is the horrible truth to this story, We allow this place to exist and these people to live as they do, or indeed die in this way. This isn't some war zone, this is home, these are our streets, our city's. Strange how from our high towers we never see the street below.