The rich sat high above the city. Leaving all us poor folk to stare up dreaming of the day we can live in the clouds as they do. Everyone reaches their arm up hoping to get a small taste of what life up there could be like.

Everyone also knows it's impossible to taste if you weren't born into it.

So as I lay in bed, staring up at the lights of their mansions that illuminate the ground below instead of the stars. I go to sleep wishing for a different life. Knowing tomorrow I will wake up in the same pit of despair. Working my life away for nothing but to remind the upper class that they don't want to end up like us. Like me.