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The song of the undead - Baptiste Domis

The dark veil had not yet pierced the heart

Of those who struggle in the slimy mud.


They wrestle along the clock with each tick

Gutting the frame like a butchery blade


Their sluggish eyelids fall on their face

Like an old rusty valve


Sometimes they are ravaged like

knights in a colosseum and


Somehow at the edge of a precipice

They come back drawing on their bravery.


The life in the streets

is absorbed by a vacuum


The sight of their peers reminded them

The acidic sorrow it would ignite


Today is another day whistling

With hope.


They pushed through to see

Another day.


Baptiste Domis is a 25 years old french classical guitarist.

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