I am the city.
I wonder who strolls my sidewalks.
I hear the quick steps on solid concrete.
I see dozens of faces passing by.
I want to explore the many pathways of the street.

I am the city.
I pretend that I am just another face in the crowd.
I feel claustrophobic, surrounded by all these elements.
I touch the ancient buildings and feel their memories.
I worry that people will never really see my beauty.
I cry when I think about this.

I am the city.
I understand that I am not for everyone, but
I say one must believe there is more than smoke and concrete.
I dream of the hundreds passing by,
I try to touch the gray clouds of air.
I hope someday people will see me for more than just a forest of metal.

I am the city.