His face was dead. In the back alley that separates the bar called the One Lucky from a city Church, he was jumped from behind. His face crashed against the concrete. He was kicked. They cursed him and left him there to die. No police arrived to investigate the faceless, bloodied man. No one traced his life. No one followed his last footsteps into a dark alleys where he met the mad fury of others.
Poems of the Week by Robin, Julian and Frank
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