Clichés abound about how alive the concrete coated, and smog infested city is. A jungle that is much fiercer than anything in nature, yet at times can hold so much beauty for being a man made thing. Taller than any tree sky scrapers reach for the heavens. Steam rises from the subways as commuters rush from the underground to the daylight in an attempt to do another day of honest work (or dishonest). In these early morning hours the chill in the air was apparent as coats were cinched tighter around slim and rotund waists. Scarves and gloves hid anything that was exposed to the cold air, and there was little pity towards anyone that had forgotten such necessary items.

It seemed everyone was in a rush to get to the next warm spot except for one creature in this city. Tall, this youth just strummed his guitar trying to keep his fingers warm. The gray gloves he wore had no fingers on them, which could say a lot about the rest of his clothing. The jacket he wore was too small for his frame of six foot. He was ill dressed for a day like this and to be out with his guitar, singing to a crowd that didn’t care.

“Use every chance you've been given
she replied after several days
It's no good to be perfect
you know so well things are easy to tell
There is one thing I know
it goes like this
It's that when I'm down and out it's you I miss”

Still the young man sang. His voice was unique and different in a way that it was smooth and rough at the same time. He had his own sound at the age of sixteen…

”I have told you this before
and my transparent mind
won't cover see-through hearts
I'll be straight with you now
Now I'm not what you want
just like the rest
and you feel like you're subject to a test
But if there's one thing I know it's this
When I lose my sleep it's you I miss”

His black eyes glanced down at the leather bound guitar case, which was held together by duct tape. There was only a dollar bill in there along with some cent pieces. It was not a very profitable morning it seemed. Yet he still smiled at the crowd, singing his song that was owned by someone else.

”You sleep all night
you know you lie awake
Tell me, yeah
And time is running out
and you know so well
it may never be”

A few more cent pieces made it inside of the case. A nod of his head and a spin on his heel showed the patrons his gratitude. He just needed another dollar for some coffee. Trophe would take care of the food, that man always took care of the food somehow. If it wasn’t for Trophe the runaway would have starved after a month on the streets.

“Use every chance you've been given
she is told, but it doesn't make her smile
She has no need to be perfect
She knows too well
things are easy to tell
I have said what I thought you should know
but you never seem to recognize my face”

Resmida or Rez smirked as he finished the last few chords of his song. He did not expect applause but he still bowed. Rez was always a performer, even though his stage was on a street corner.