This city

This city is full of things I hate,
It's full of traffic and people who don't get it,
This city is so full its screaming out over the tip of the shard
It's pilling up over the roof top gardens in central London.
The banks full of money, dirty and clean,
But full to the brim, spiling out over the top like some small child's piggy bank,

But worst of all
All the small things are slowly dying 
All the intimate gazes that are worth a thousand words
Are being shoved back down the throats of people with intimate feelings
So that those who are fed up and tired of their 9 to 5 
Get pushed towards the top of the needs ladder,
With their stresses being answered first.

I'm not like that, I'm not racist,
I don't wish a certain identity or a certain race to leave,
But I do believe there are just too many people,
Strange faces, unfamiliar places,
Confused people, confused psychologies.

This city is the best thing that I have,
It's full of opportunity,
Full of motivated people, two for every one that hates their job,
There are so many good things, 
That we often overlook.