Dishonor Unabated

In a fight for it all, between city and city, /the arm that holds the weight is apparently golden./In the streets of blue shades, streaked with other hues, /the deadly days, stone remnants lie,/ broods crawl through an alley anchoring my childhood,/ a place to make life itself lifelike,/somehow called home, over and over,/where honor dissipates,/ and youth prepares to catapult,/ serious about itself,/in pools of light from sentries of the kitchen/storms in curtains contain the fruits of others,/ it abates only in the cells of others

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