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The Rose

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As rain falls down like shards of glass, breaking
O’er a city now sleeping, waiting now.
Luminous streetlights, stars piercing, waking.
Rebuff the storm; no hint of spite allow.

Forgo the spir’t of obsequ’ous feigning.
Sprout beneath shambles; flowers under ash.
Washing ‘way oscillating hearts, raining!
Once unsure, swaying, swaying, chaos, clash!

A city sleeps, fraught with misdemeanor,
A city sleeps with rain blocked by windows.
Redemption spurn’d by nothing; were we keener. . .
We’d face the rain, arms open’d, like the rose.

The city would bloom bright red, penitent,
And drink clean life, life of death, infinite.



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