Empty streets feel lonely Even in the yellow lights Of ever burning street lamps Casting pale shadows On late evening wanders Meandering cracked paths Leading to locked doors Shuttered windows dark No safe harbor in the night Except places of ill repute Selling poison or flesh Transient immoral salves For spiritual wounds That drive the hurt out When the eyes of the decent Are closed by honest sleep Unable to bear witness To the shambling tragedies Shuffling along streets Never closing to the wounded Seeking a place to rest Souls wearied to a world Where meaninglessness Is the nature of existence
A poem based on a photo prompt from Go Dog Go Café.
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