Nashville Seven: ‘was your sweet kiss just a dream?’ – clem

the rain fell on Gotham,
splattering like blood
against the concrete
and the mud,
and while city-lights blurred
in my mirror,
the raindrops preferred it
much clearer,
but they fell anyway,
an unstoppable storm
who came to perform
his dazzling light-show,
a music we all know,
has left the stage in pieces
miles and miles apart,
there’s sick beauty in God’s art,
and Gotham, as dark as she is,
will live to see the sunrise again.

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