Discarded and Uneducated

It was a glass shattered as it hit the top of the bar like a piece of ice and slush from the darkest, coldest nether regions on the other side of the river, apart from polite society in which young men and girls do not dress nor fight according to such a fierce tribe, so as not to smoke inside nor pat down the gun carrying members society dictates in the folds of an open grill, a freight train coming on (as it were) full speed ahead, the white and pasty six-faced engineer not powerless, nor with great strength could ever hope to hold back a determined onslaught of a tribe slighted, our age and deference more than likely the two things or one that might hold us separate from the melee, separate but not apart at the relief of the city’s finest in glaring red and blue, polite as ever, but with a suppressed menace that one would do well to remember: there are no sides in misfortune, barely the pursuit of happiness, for liberty seems to have long ago subsided, but what of life? What kind of life is this bound to produce? Discarded and uneducated.