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broken nails trailing red ink,

jagged lonely

language dragged through

barren streets

where crimson horizons

bleed glass shards,

falling leaves

in concrete trees—

vultures, sentries

and I wonder if

it's only me

screaming to


then claws hiss against

stone, a scavenger

shifts forward,

then all—

feathers stretching

withering grays—

all their wings

cracked like dreams

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