Tragedy drains the pallor
of gaunt, exhausted faces
looking downwards into a nothingness –
They continue to search
for what they have lost
but they don’t know
what they lost anymore.
And the sunrise blinds them to the dark
for only a moment and cuts
serrated lines across brows
and in the corners of eyes –
Lips parting to breathe in and taste
the light, a sweet warm
dripping light that washes the dust
from the backs of their throats
and makes them forget
what they were looking for.
Nice One
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