It’s Sunday night and I’m walking the streets of the most beautiful city in the world.
On the streets cigarette butts crushed into the crevices of cracked pavements.
Decay feels normal to these unpaved streets.
The roads are filled with neglected buildings,
And people with shattered dreams.
I lie here in her arms like a little child,
I’m supposed to feel safe.
I’m supposed to feel something, anything.
But, I feel nothing, nothing at all.
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