What We are Given

She stares out the lessening window.

Rain hits hard against her forehead

against the glass. Cold seeps

into the hand falling away

falling down.

Where are you?

This city is foreign, this city is not home.

Alone the dark approaches from beyond

the black waters beyond the seventh floor.

Music fills the space between deep breaths

between the shifting body disconnected from the

displaced mind floating beyond the glass.

Staring through rain drops the distortion

through street lamps calms the being

within being drawn outward in this city

of chaos the fray lives on cement corners.

Used With Permission from Twisted Root Studios
Used With Permission from Twisted Root Studios
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