Blind

Chained Dolls Prose

Amidst the city screams I see two under a bridge, one rocking a baby, another hiding in the back seat of a car which might not even be his. Within the night I see all the days we erase by walking blindly past strife and fantasizing about what will never come to light. Everything changes yet remains the same for those who refuse to see.
Blind Copyright © 2017 Anna M. Asbury


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