This city will not miss me, others have eased my passing as I grew older in my youth. This island sneers at me affronted by my chutzpah in attempting to be recognised as noble and of value within its watery confines…
This city cries naught for those who come to stay, the non-return valve on its one and only mean motorway holds all, rather than those with something to offer. I did not know this. I was escaping the meaner streets of the dog city, I came with nothing and expected to be surrounded by those with more. This was folly.
I was escaping those who would entrap me with lies, drugs, their legs and more, to find that more lay ahead than left behind. This is not to be pensive, I arrived with the joy of having found sun, the dog city had none. My journey led from squalor that in its obviousness scared me rather than troubled, instead I found the unobviousness of settled depravity, this led to despair of soul other than flight.