Kismet weaves itself among the lovelorn fevers

Across the divide of pedestrian Concrete rivers

Mute concerns of romance drowning in crowded ******

Asphyxiated hopes regurgitated Worshipping...

     Solace now a missing person on the milk carton
    
     Wrought with wish or promises by kept patrons

     The teeming of empty kin, lies white in the eyes

     Restlessly the hatred settles like dust, sins silently cry

Inside the place we should hold true

Is as absolute as the days the ****** rue.

In the pit of our shame, emptiness that hurts and mutes

A hell they can preview: the nothing they fall Into....