I walk through the subway
* * Stop and stare,
A trail of graffiti
is sitting right there
I Look I See A Story unfold
Accusations and artwork
Brand new and old. Colours and chaos,
Artistic in some,
Some things offensive,
Some things for fun. Bright tags are present
* * who loves who?
And many a comment
from "the big lyan crew" Digs and responses
* * but no rhyme
Just "please call this number
if you wanna good time" Amongst all the insults,
Two lovers they write,
From the opposite gangs
They are scared they will fight The two gangs are separate,
But they long to have all,
Why should they not love,
Due to ink on a wall? It's just words and drawings,
But to them it seems more,
Should they split and make peace,
Or together make war? I walk through the subway,
Stop and stare,
Graffiti is no longer
painted on there. I look, I search
but all I can see,
Is plain and white covering,
looking at me. Where are the drawings?
And where is the art?
The stories and insults,
they all played a part. Something has stopped them,
they've now ceased to be,
The war of the words,
on an art driven sea. But then I soon notice,
just down to the right,
A small little poen
stands out on the white.
In just plain red writing,
No insults had grown..
So I stand there and read it,
aloud, all alone.. "It was just words and drawings,
But to them it was more,
These two star crossed lovers,
Embroiled in a war...
Just ink and spray paint,
But now it will cease,
As the white wall surrounds you,
May your soul rest in peace" | 
