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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