she turns her face away

 

she turns her face away
gently the cloak of thorns
the bleeding glove touching
holding a day’s darkness
beneath the overpass
a blue flower sighs
the wasteland weeds
watching day’s end
release from earth
the smell of heat & din
an eight million city
rhythm mixes in a vein
temples beating to escape
peoples’ soul pushing
the gods you do not share

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