On the top floor, she saw men clinking glasses and women with red lipstick,
all grinning widely but she could see the expressions through the thick layer of makeup,
And she tries to hide behind the straight tree with her numb body.
She notices tidy boots and dirty cuffs,
are those black goggles covering the bulging eyes? she is wondering.
As these men step out of their long cars
she finds stray dogs moving back in the construction pipes.
A mother hugging her child more tightly,
a wife is breathless,
a daughter grasping her body,
men, so afraid of answering their doors.
The glamour of the red gown could not shine the lives of people,
The whiteness of the collar could not bring justice to the innocent,
the old man died in the cold winter,
the kid starved to death behind the villa,
the journalist was buried alive at the big house,
and the church massacre needed prayers.
The top floor remained untouched,
the floor for 1% of the 1% is rising high,
World’s eyes are set on the height,
but she notices the building block, the dark block.