Cold Front

That cold feeling is in the air in my city, in between skyscrapers and business buildings, white nights on dark days, torn down and rebuilt the structure
Rebuilt without a single path being paved, or rather paid attention to from the outside windows trees sing songs we don’t listen to the night is missing you.

And we’re missing too, travelers traveling underneath through and through, bones dry none the less so who even feels the morning dew.
It’s cold in my city I pray for change
although we have enough change to change, they all left but under this tree in this wind I remain.


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