Still people

The sun disappeared
and we are all poorer for it.

So let me serenade this god-forsaken city, left behind
to blackened skies,
poisoned air
and empty banks;
you don’t need the sun to be kind

because

salty lips,
wild eyes,
broken spirits,
disenchanted spirits
all find refuge in your quiet shadows,
where sorry people
wandering people
walking people
running people
are all still people.

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