memories are left, behind
head crossed over the shoulders
peaking at what, was once mine
violence is this city's source of shine
with each childs cry loud enough
to shatter any lie
but yet they ignore His might,
the strength needed for the body to
begin its flight
you could feel each pain
and judge each way, but
without an angel's help,
each hand extended after,
is far too late
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
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