literal tragic irony

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Let’s fix the city tonight…

Or how about we take it from your own wound? Freshly cut by the horror of that long grim night.

Did the moon shone dull? I thought it was too bright—my eyes froze…how come nobody saw it coming? It should have rain, perhaps. And shame to the stars oblivious to that dreaded scandalous night. They should fall, perhaps.

And I wonder how long shall you bare that nightmare pierced through your scars…

Let’s blame the rabid.

 

 

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