Three-quarters of a moon and there's light left in store today, but not much.
The shadows are cast and the baby still cries, but there is life in store for a world that just may still rise.
Occasional breezes blow to ease the shrill heat, my body sore, tested, and pushed to edges as I race down broken streets.
The smell I could do without, for it is something too unpleasant to describe, but then again, sometimes, that which is easiest to describe is not worth the investment.
One day when the arguments fade, and the government aligns, and the children learn enough to be men shall this desolation be filled with flowers and life once more.
I pray that day is soon.
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