In the city

 

Last sun rays

don’t mean a thing

when you’re a crippled butterfly

in the city.

Green leaves will turn red

the only ocean you ever see

is piles of mud

and lashings of concrete.

Even though I stand tall

how much smaller can I get

next to the almighty grotesque

I once longed for?

Have I found or lost myself?

Have I seen the stars?

Got stuck having modern coffees

in vain and overcrowded boulevards.

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