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Bryan Amerila
Poems
Jun 2016
Waiting for the Angels of the Night
News Item: Cold kills the poor in Brazil’s richest city
June 30, 2016*
Cold creeps again, pale as Death
Her long arms emaciated,
Bloodless.
Her sharp fingernails,
Dripping with dirt
Marking my skin, her territory.
My skin - a stranger’s skin
My blood, she draws
No blood. No longer mine.
“You are mine,” her whisper, cold.
Her eyes of death,
Piercing my soul
A single breath
I keep hidden under
My blanket, stripping me
Homeless.
“The security officers did it.” local media accused.
But I am homeless. Stripped.
“Please. Bring my blanket back first.
Please.
It's cold in here."
We are the World.
Reference: http://www.bworldonline.com/content.php?section=World&title;=cold-kills-the-poor-in-brazil&8217s-richest-city&id;=129714
Written by
Bryan Amerila
Makati City, Philippines
(Makati City, Philippines)
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