mysteries in pink sparkles

nobody knew exactly
where it had come from
who had made it
when it had appeared
but on the walls of the city
a message of hope
in glitter and gouache
to be washed away
then rewritten
in darkest night
by another hand
the torch passed on
and on and on
we will not give up
we will not be taken hostage
by a rich man’s dreams
of eavesdropping
on our futures
we believe in ourselves
and what we have achieved
and you bloody well better
not take that away
you will not listen in

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Basically, I deal in words.

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