London. – A Poem

The sky is grey,

And the trees are dead.

It’s a cold September morning,

And I should still be in bed.

I stare at the dull buildings,

Industrialised beyond repair.
Oh London,

Don’t hide behind your grey facade,

I know what’s inside.
I am oh so tired,

But this is the city that never sleeps.
But I just carry on,

Without a care in the world.
For soon,

I’ll soak in my melancholy gloom.