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noir come up poetry

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Navigating sculpted tunnels
with newly stitched nerves,
through melted snow rivers
that carry waste into streets
worn by trafficked lifers.
An unwrapped baby
anti’s up at the tracks,
unversed in ruthless contest
for headlines as kindling.
Naïveté the sole saviour of propulsion
for an irradiated heart
seeking the cradle of song.

Author: tendrilwise

Hi, I have a diploma in Journalism, I've published a novel, and I am currently studying psychology. My odd way of viewing the world either gets me kicked out of parties or invited to them. Jenn McKay

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