Living in pigeon holes
boxed in with closed doors
Restricted, obstructed, constricted views
Brightly painted doors for happy beginnings
Cities that lure with their fake promises
playing with real lives
Too hungry to refuse, they play along with a hope
Someday, that door will open
like a dream come true
but to where, no one really knows
Why do they fall prey anyway?
What difference does it make to pigeons
what colour the door of their prison is!