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The creaking of the summer heat
the hard cracks beneath your fading feet
a jungle of splinters and bones
where every street is haunted home.
But here you find something hard
something tough to swallow
(as you found it dormant in your throat);
here you find the truth-
out above the rubble,
pounding down the roads
glaring back against the sun;
nothing is for shadows
that hasn't seen the light
nothing lost in the
Tall City Grass.