Dying but not recognised
As you shivered, I did not
I only saw you bloated and off-colour
A wax doll, soon to be ablaze

These streets your streets. Residue.
So much left to share. Residue.

Constricting and biting
This frigid leeching doom
Deprived of sweet prosperity
Bitter sickness blooms

Your own handiwork now marks your grave
The wine infiltrating the earth
A canvas remains unpainted
The marble remains unsculpted
Shivering residue
But I own my wounds

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