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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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