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This city with its myriad eyes
watches, waits as petals with their waxen glow
And leaves unfurling
Come, upturned, to the daylight’s harsh glow
This city with its myriad eyes;

This city with its myriad eyes sees all
The rusty blue beetle with chewed out seatbelts
Swerving, screeching. Belonging to the ashes of
This glowering city, watching night and day.

This city with its myriad eyes
Will wait
Rigid, unyielding
As the plebian townspeople scurry like ants
Under their magnificent creations
Condemning you to an unknowing fate
In a glass cage

You say you are innocent, girl?
This errant city has seen you
In the ponds, idly laying beneath the willows
Above the lily pad
And underneath the heavy sky.
This city with its myriad eyes
Has seen you
Trailing your fingers along the river’s lip
Barely leaving dwindling wakes
For trailing frogs behind
This city with its myriad eyes
Knows your innocence is a veil
For your harsh playfulness
Quite the crime, my young girl
Says this city with its myriad eyes.

— The End —