Before I used to walk hours in the rain but now a thousand eyes scan under my clothes. 
London, you make me feel undressed. 
Your slums, I've been there. There's no money but people are happy. That happiness is any builder's silver lining, just like that, bulldozers are driven over living homes. People are picked up and thrown around like nothing. On the name of "rehabilitation centres", they're given concentration camps, but these are your lucky citizens, London. You don't have bathrooms, so people are roaming around invalid. 

Some people give up smoking. Trust me, your air is enough to contaminate my lungs any day. It's poison. And for some, your water is urine. Your taxes? Our families die a little every day just to fill your account and in return... What do I get? 
Dirty floors? Open gutters? Half-repaired roads? A black sea? A struggling police force that gets paid very little? 

7th Septemeber 1940 and 21 May 1941. You've had bombs dropped on you and people have tried to stop you, yet you've taken a U-Turn and came back with that "All is Well" smile. Don't take a deep breath, London. Don't count to 10. Don't calm your anger. Do you remember that flood in December 2015 in the North of England? If only it would've inched a little closer, then everything would've been fine. London finished. The End. We would have had to start from zero, you would have been born again. 

Who are you London? Do you even know what you've turned into? "The trouble is you think you've got time." Your time is running out, London. But I don't care because, alongside me, you're also dying. 

Maybe you and I aren't so different, London. You're also empty from the inside. You're also passing your time in the name of living. Maybe this isn't how you and I are supposed to end up. Maybe we should get one more chance? Show victims some justice? Show them that their deaths weren't a waste. 

You're Killing Me London...