Into the Dark by Debra Webb Roberts

a cell
as one more
is ripped to shreds

pieces of a few –
a bit of all of us, you know –
in fragments, scattered

litter in the streets chime in
an arsenal of change – chagrin –
of rage, of accusation

pointing, Whom?

so much for light
for city’s declaration


a slow burn
lighting nothing

a slow return
to hate

enter, again,
the dark ages
and a plague

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