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home

the lights go out on the city streets,
darkness falls down while the city sleeps,
i lie awake staring into that night,
a million stories a writers delight,
there are sinners sinning in shame,
winners are winning playing there games,
dealers deal selling their cure,
feeding on the innocent the weak the pure,
a man is murdered hung by the neck,
death is delt from the devils deck,
junkies jump to get just a taste,
love is lost inside this place,

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To have great poets there must be great audiences too.

Walt Whitman, American Poet (1819-1892)

portis420’s Poems (5)

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