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Aug 2
The rain crystallizes,
Collecting fragments of neon lights,
Like shards of beach glass,
Hoarded onto the windows,
" the city that never sleeps ",
Poor thing,
Kept awake by the incessant sounds of its thousands of inhabitants,
Half-dipped in Latte froth,
And skinny soy mochas,
Ode to a vacant city,
Too exhausted,
Can you hear the Void calling?
B The Poet
Written by
B The Poet  15/Non-binary/my brain, where else?
(15/Non-binary/my brain, where else?)   
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