Mother thought I'd be eaten alive
in this concrete labyrinthe of mysterious lives
The night it is holy
beat music plays
weeps through my window
warms my cold veins
Sarcastic writers
smoke scented cloves
burned out Marxists
fan by the stove
My face it is hidden
by a mask of indifference
feel like an imposter sometimes
a lonely kid sister
Mother thought I'd be eaten alive
but my heart is still beating
My muse
is still breathing
The taxi cab will soon take me home
to a one room flat
that can get quite cold
I'll curl under the comforter
my Gran nana sewed
and watch the city twinkle
fold me in it's arms
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