Tride Remarks

Rooftop highlands,

These broken eyelids.

Serial numbers stamp,

dead men at the wheel,

society spins upwards as life spins down.

Scarlet rain spreads the pain.

Concrete cracks under the pressure,

blind to the undertones.

The advocate dances about our lives,

while the madmen cannot cease to play,

the clacking of keys on heartstrings.

Forget the voice on the inside.

The End

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