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Feb 2012
Raining metal
on streets stained
by the contents
of so many veins

The art of violence
bullets brush paint
on broken down walls
built to contain

such acts in the night
and murders by day
The scent of the city;
a stench you can taste

You tell me now, still,
that the world will change
for the better somehow
How long will we wait?
Benjamin Aptaker
Written by
Benjamin Aptaker
566
 
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