People think

I’m not from the city

So I must be a bumpkin

Only suited to the country

Ploughing fields or raising cattle

Sitting on porches and chewing tobacco

And that I wouldn’t survive

A night in the hustle

Of the big city lights

And the traffic and the bustle

But they don’t realise

I was born from the shadows

That the city cast down

Spawn of the darkness

And to these streets I am bound

And while the city sleeps

I come alive

 

This started out as a general observation of what (let’s be honest, a very small proportion of) city folk tend to think about those from rural areas. It took an unexpected turn.

---

My laptop has died. Any purchase of my book would help put me in a position where I could replace it.

Or Buy Me a Coffee and we’ll be bestest buddies forever