a group loiters on
the broken corner
like anxious crows
who lurk above all
they see their facade
as the best armor
for bullets,
life's uppercuts,
and the Fall
somehow someway
they think it's solved
what's called tradition
they refuse to change
but it's really the blessings
of the estranged
YOU ARE READING
urban fairytales
Poetryit's easier to believe magic doesn't exist so we don't feel guilty for being too stupid to see it (c) daisyology / kandutchie This poem book is completed.
