This is what happens to our concrete
roses. After the lights are out and the stage furniture is pushed aside ready
for the next act.
When the bulldozers are done with the broken petal dreams he
dared to show us. When the gun smoke clears and the unashamed fade into the
shadows.
We lament.
Because our hearts
are broken but deep down we know this place is of steel and bone and sharp
edges, a flower could have never survived not even one that pushed its way
through the cracks in the street.
This is what happens when the young perish at the hands of
heartless men, our memories remain but the dream dies forever.
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