Saturday, March 2, 2019

We are like graffiti

We are like graffiti, splattered on a concrete wall.
Splintering like shards of glass in the lazy sun
assaulting the pristine calm.
Still you are drawn to its ugliness, unable to
look away. Captive to her swinging pendulum,
she beckons you in shadows.
Seeds of withered longing woven into dense city
breaths, languishing this quiet morn. Waxing a dull
grey sheen darkening her face.
A commuter train passes slowly by, playing her
symphony. Such madness. Screeching metal twisting
in dire, tormented winds.


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