Nothing good could get through
hard bricked layer upon layer
(not a sword and not a slayer)
of the thick coat of arms
that is mankind and its charms.
So the shine still remains,
a harsh reminder of the light of days.
There is a sleep in slumber which is deep in pains,
there is an exit and a wound
that is closest to the womb.
May we ever wake and see:
the light hits where we should be.
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