The Rabbit

Through a systematically programmed trance,
through the colors lighting the night
brighter than the day.
Seething quickly past the red light signs,
towards the beautiful green plastic grass
on the other side.

Synchronizing like a flock of fish,
lured to chase the untouchable artificial hare.
Endlessly feeding the bottomless stomach
of the screaming reptilian complex.

Now your statue stands tall,
in time it'll shatter and fall.

The touch of the hands turns
not to gold but to rust,
losing value once it's in the hands.
Dropping tails, stabbing backs
for the way up (to realize)
insignificance is a place we cannot find.

Leave all the rest
and the rabbit you will come to catch,
but once you catch it,
will it even matter anymore?