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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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