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Angela Mary Pope Jul 2015
When the lights went out
and you were left to your own devices
what part of the bars did you hold onto
in the name of sudden compromise

this city spoke in a voice that whispered at just you
you were always a fast talker who had nothing left to lose
the paints we played with to write on walls
were colored by blood and the skid of your shoes

Left behind and held back
by the same pane of glass
that broke into a thousand pieces
when the ceiling finally cracked

Now may these fond memories
hold truth upon your life's beaten down path
so I can pretend that in that moment
you knew to you that you were on the right track.

you

— The End —