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But We Chose Here
Mark McConville
I would happily die in your arms
Setting a scene for melancholia
Bringing down the curtains over
Our lives.
I said to you after our last meal
That we should’ve travelled along the ridge
Of prosperity, living in a place where angels,
Walk the streets, where statues don’t get defaced.
But we chose here,
A place of lathered blood over the walls
A hotbed for unanswered questions to bloom.
Questions about love, questions about sanity.
Mark McConville is a freelance music journalist who has written for many online and print publications. He also likes to write dark fiction and poetry.
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