Like tulips, a spring awakening.
The florist is a love monger.
A fascist benefactor of well wishes.
The boy in turquoise shudders.
He shudders at the sight of happiness.
He is alone on the edge of the world.
To live and die beneath the city lights.
Atop a hill of dreams he flew with friends when darkness sprang,
all shadows vanished.
No one in sight.
The illusion of independence.
A sardonic requiem.
The boy in turquoise sits alone.
Without wings
Beneath the city lights.
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