Led Moon Flower
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Rate this poem I wrote called self identities ?
Hearts beat when the turning of gears,gears that work clocks and awaken the world to the bleak hour of the day,where the angels fly with wings mended with tape and lazarus, with eyes that reflect the gray of the streets.
The colors of the flowers are drowned by the overwhelming ashen shades of the concrete that crashes and collides with buildings, and settles under the billboards like charcoal waves under a paper mâché moon.
Sounds rap on my window waking me from my bed,I hold my breath to avoid inhaling that toxic certainty,of lives led in the buildings, that pierce skies and are flooded by concrete,the contagious unison of breath and mechanical hearts of those that walk the streets at dawn.
Who's thoughts and mouths are so filled by paper currency, that it's rustle deafens them to the sound of the birds, to the symphony of the soil and the melodies of the leaves. They have lost their self identities and sold their souls for free©
Don't listen to LC. It's a very nice wake up call. The 9-5 black hole ruins people's lives. I love the imagery and the contrast. I'm finding it hard to compliment this work in the right way; let's just say I wish I had written it.
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