rolling down a back alley
pushed along by the wind,
a scared mind from the gravel
bloodied and beaten, robbed
of all my humanity... I sit
in the doorway of the morgue
wondering when someone
will pull me inside... the
moon sits on top of a lamp
post, lovers kissing on the
bench below... stars dazzle
the sky like diamonds on a
plate and the blackness covers
all her blemishes... the police
have taken a holiday and all
our leaders have gone home
to pry to a god in which they
no longer believe... up into
the sky they all look hoping
to be wrong but the light of
hope has long since been
replaced by those who want
no government control at all.
March 13, 2024
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