Families, oblivious to the lies of the Donkeys and Elephants,
Only suffocated by street lights and their stardom,
While real stars go unnoticed.
Identical faces housing a similar devil,
Hidden by a facade of wealth and status,
Unaware of the useless baggage that they enclose.

Broken, brown bottles hide in the landscaping,
Shards of glass smother flowerbeds,
Necks of bottles, the root of the shards, gather around shrubbery.
In the surrounding fields, wildflowers blossom,
Only to be picked, plucked and pruned until they resemble rose bushes.
But roses don't always smell as good as they look.
Street lights go out, but stars will burn on.