Surplus Utopia

It painted the sky orange

The setting suns surplus

The delaying dying shades

Warming up the spirits

Like a steaming hot tea

When the zest is down,

Local children laughed in glee

Leaving the burden of knowledge

From their aching shoulders

Down on the dirty ground

Falling and rolling up

Like stacks of tangled bones,

Insects of hysteria flies back to nestle

Before the darkness darken

And the man tend to cease

The inexorable mechanism

Of the malicious system

To wander back to the utopia

To the point where they stopped

Just after the neon light

Knocked the lids of the eye at dawn…