“Fissures”
by Emily Winters
I can no longer distinguish between the cracks in the concrete and the cracks in my mind;
The grime on the buildings matches the grime in my head…
I am a bird, I am flying,
Yet I shall always be a flightless bird.
So fast, life in the fast lane…
That’s me.
The skyline’s a dotted haze and the ground waves hello as it rushes up to meet me...
Wow, isn’t the city wonderful at night?
Finally I am able to see the lines and my life?
It
Just
Goes
Splat.
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