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Grim wits prevail

Benjamim Whidborne

Grim wits prevail

Set against a skyline of grey.

As cynicism nourishes the weak,

In celebrating the strong;

Punishes the unable.

The bus pulls off,

The tops of city buildings loom

With concrete grey, blind too its own moulding.

The damp runs extending out,

Decaying the bland walls.

Stood meters off

The sallow, rotting guttering.

Disillusionment visible for all,

The sky grey in January,

Merges with the morose wall.

Bridges extend

Beyond the eyes’ parameter.

Yet the grey brown dirt remains untoward.

Again a bus jerks and stops

With a smell of foul rubber.

The scene sickens.

The fake lacquer peels and falls off.

Floats wearily to the wet puddles edge,

Meeting ends of cigarettes,

Saturated and puffy

And still.

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