I must sing one last song,
In this noiseless underpass I remain,
Only empty pitches while my knees scrape along,

Flesh peeling away piece by piece,
Past voices deluge,
Like the way you held my heart like a folded crease,

Scattering down a subway tunnel,
Pupils barely attached,
Recalling when I used to dance around like a bubble,

Midnight tears streaming,
What is now left of my fractured cheek bone,
Blazing lights engrave me, with one immense pitch,

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