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By the Bridge

you were so beautiful,

when I was dropped at your door —

your colorful dollhouses and

hilly hallways,

your elegant rooms

dyed in a medley of hues,

and I met your dancers there,

so graceful under your tenderness,

granting new life for me —

even as a plague crossed the threshold

and began to ravage

these hearts of beauty.

I miss the angels

who lifted me in your place of splendor.

but now I see you in distress,

your doors are fractured and your floors

are cracked with hollow splinters

and rotting wood —

your walls are painted in fear

as wanderers stare out

your smeared windows —

crying in silence.

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