Under the overpass
Way out in fairlee they were saying
I'm convinced
The city has its cards
A fuel-less fire will always fade
Keep your hands warm
Lock all the shutters when the wind returns
Brought with it are convictions considered arguable
It turns
In time
Reflects
Your eyes
Beyond the critical
Beyond the highway is not safe
Cars move slow
Against a backdrop fades
An insulated formless shape
Falling snow builds
There is a bare light that could catch your eyes
Had the whole place on its feet rethink what is valuable
It turns
In turn
Reflects
The light
In a derailment
Article claiming
That you're not fit
And you don't have
Names not worth naming
At that is something
Right in the center
You see yourself and you don't know
At least you got mentioned
Writer(s): Matthew Morris Pond
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