Daniel Bellerose

Numbered Graves

People walking down a crowded street, never noticing the smoke surrounding them
Lights, noise, money drowns out the sound of the boots marching to the rhythm of the coin
Masses fall and raise, sirens wail, hands fly, souls soar, and the chandeliers fade to black
Black glass melting in pools of debauchery, pouring down the throats of those who stand wanting
Wanting, waiting, searching for an answer, searching for a solution to the problem of life
21 floors of jagged teeth, dressed as slot ma

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