The Blackbird

The Blackbird.
 
The drab grey
Of the cliché tenement walls,
And the drab yellow
Of it’s occupants,
 
Makes me want to
Grab the clock,
Force back it’s hands.
 
Be free from
These chains
 
Of hopelessness.
 
It’s 8 o clock
And sleepily I notice
A blackbird on the roof.