the night is not so black
not so dark
not so hidden
that we cannot see
the alleyways of the soul.
buried in the trash of these
the stench of these
the color of these
Red cries from within
the walls high and divided
muting the message and the pain.
and another steps in-
the solution is plain.
the culprit of all our problems
soon sitting at the bottom
below in a hole in the ground
and someone says, “it will be forever,”
and no one rises to test it
and no one rises to declare
the hole may be a hole
but no one seems to care.
and so we labor, so many in the blind
like scattered cats scattered wide,
troubled alleyways of the soul
confused by the refuse in the hole.
what will change to bring change
what will endure with the loss of sight
what will you do with the hole
that stands on the edge of night.
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