My city
breeds
White
knuckles
Five by
five they march
From the
Highest
pedigree
To the
Lowest
strain
They smell
fear
And
multiply
Like
rabbits
Fists
closed so tight
They become
Purple
orange
Swollen
Drained
Suffocated
Crowned
with
Pale
militia
Waiting to
shatter teeth
To throw
the first punch
And this
city smiles
Best
believe
A shark’s
Grin
Lined with
broken glass
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