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Budhino Jun 2017
Big city hits me too hard
Leaving the door open
And it always sounds so loud
Even till the morning light
Budhino Jun 2017
The heights,
Windows,
Papers.
Everyday,
Same coffee
Same lighters.  
Tell me
Are you a fighter?
In a crowded train
Or the empty street.

2 a.m.
Eyes close or open.
The lights,
Or the city you never know.
The foul smells,
Garbage cans,
Humans swears.  

Anywhere
No flower to be seen
Old tall trees,
Grey leaves.
Your hood or mine,
It's all the same.

— The End —