Concrete

And you're upstairs in your glass castle looking down on us like we're specs of dust on your chrome appliances

Your chandelier hangs oversized and overrated from your vaulted ceilings void of warmth

Diamonds glisten against the black of bone-chilling emptiness

You pour your wine and you look down on them

Neatly packed dominoes, a row of sleeping bags like chrysalises 

Bled together like a friendship bracelet, woven for warmth

You can't smell the acidity of ammonia dripping down the drain beneath your feet

The drunken snores of sleeping men awaiting death like a sentence

It's cold down here

It's cold down here where concrete is a mattress and the city is unforgiving

Cold walls threatening, angry like the winds that chill us without fake fireplaces roaring with forced heat

An illusion like the security of your gold plated kingdom

Because stripped down naked to the bones of your existence you are no better than them

You are a breathing producing consuming machine

Just trying to imprint your footprint deeper into the earth's surface

The only difference is they aren't scared to face the reality of concrete,

The lifelessness of architecture

The flatline of a manufactured city's still heartbeat when the power is cut