The graffiti on the
abandoned building
was a life story.

The anonymous strokes are ragged,
showing pain,
as if it were torn pieces,
held together for one purpose.

The colors were clashed
together, as if it
was forgotten rainbow,
it was there.

Bubble letters addressing
powerful meanings heard,
not cared, as if the President
were discussing politics.

Speaking the words that cannot be sound,
spray saint up and down
the walls of the urban railroad.

Graffiti on the walls
earning the calls
of the unknown.

it’s a life story
Being basked in the glory
of the unknown.