When the Night ask Itself

Walking in the sidewalk at 11-ish PM is a scenery of a boy begging for a little piece of bread, of a girl in high ponytail with tight short shorts, she's crossing and a crowd of boys are whistling, there's that woman screaming for a lost wallet and a man running for his life, tightly holding a bag, inside he could feel the growling hungry stomachs of his children, his breathless, "Hush! Hush now, my children!" could be heard in the silent of the night, the stale smell of sex is mixing with the smell of tapa, of burger, of.. There's a groan of adultery inside the kitchen, stretch your eyes far to that pillar beside that two kids sniffing 'til their noses bleed, is death without a scyth, he's holding a party, each night, at this hour

*randomly written 05 September 2013