No Exit 2
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We pace the bleakest streets alone. We speak no words.
We walk past Stations of the Cross in the late world
Without a sense of pity. We are dazzled by
Neon lights. We no longer look to wounded skies
Where we once discovered feathered joy and freedom.
Existence now seems so futile under the sun.
Our limp, quivering hands reach out for lucky dice
Amidst the vast, unknown fears of this dreadful night.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş