From up here, I can barely see people's faces, but I can still see them walking. Most of them stay on the sidewalk, but a few cut through to save time. It's rare to see them cut, though, especially if they're walking with other people. They still look happy where they are, I can imagine a little smile painted on their faces. The ones that cut seem not to realize the plants that live where they are walking. They just walk right on them, not really caring, not even noticing that grass doesn't really like being stepped on, when it was there first. I can see that a path has formed from so many people cutting through the grass over the years. The grass there has been worn down, and is now brown and old, and dead. Now people take the shortcut, because they see a clear path. Everything there is dead, so I guess it's ok to walk on. Pretty soon, some people will decide to make another shortcut through the grass. Eventually, more people will take that path, and the grass will become brown and dead. But life just goes on from up here.
Reason for writing:
This little piece is about conformity, inspired by me sitting in my dorm room looking out the window all the time.
Birth sign: Not entered
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