stands idly by the cement line
scathed and broken, swallowed
by the nights low whisper
craving the dormant thoughts
drawn out, crafted with the
design of the world
caught in still life
without the sound
of the howling wolf
and the grape vine valleys
will lead a path
adapted in alleyways
two times clearer
but smaller than time
this child will fight
but his war is long since lost
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