Peter Sefton

Dismally Broken

The boy waits under the station overhang,
Protected from the rain,
Falling from gray clouds past the gray statue,
Onto gray people lacking the will to trap you.
The bus arrives, dismal lights cutting through a dismal haze,
Aboard the bus dismal people each with a dismal gaze.
The broken ferry rolls forth,
carrying broken thoughts and broken wills,
broken lives reduced to a deluge of pills,

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