Bloct the Kid and his Ten Short Stories about Hate

2.- Dead as Leaves on the Ground




This city, this scene, this generation, this whole situation is dead as fuckin' leaves on the fuckin' ground. My grandpa' says: "when i was your age everything was different, the sky was true blue, the sun yellow and little kids were mellow, and love was true love".

Now the kids don't smile, they just walk around with a misceavous grin, starin' at girls knockin' their oun shins, the sun is too afraid to set at night 'cause who knows if another day will come for him to shine, and true love has turned into... well i guess you all know what it has turned into.

This new dawn fades, as leaves escape their fate dashing trough the air only to found they are bound to end crushed into the ground.