late night symphonies of a broken record

A broken record, no.
I have no time. Lost time,
I have.

Trying to understand
this broken record.

Enough is enough.

Give me back this house.
Give me back this city.

Leave the broken record
As a testament
To everything you did wrong.

Everything I hear is
Arabic slam poetry, the only sound worth concentrating on
to remind me of what I lost.


Mirror on the wall, what’s cracked? Nothing, it said. I have these flowers for company. Yerevan, Mirzoyan Lbrary. September 2018 ©le_chah_errant

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