morning night and noon
the traffic moves through
and the murder and treachery
of friends and lovers
and all the people
move through you.
pain is the joy of knowing
the unkindest truth
that arrives without warning.
life is being alone
death is being alone.
even the fools weep
morning night and noon.
the traffic moves through
and the murder and treachery
of friends and lovers
and all the people
move through you.
pain is the joy of knowing
the unkindest truth
that arrives without warning.
life is being alone
death is being alone.
even the fools weep
morning night and noon.
( Charles Bukowski )
[ The People Look Like Flowers ]
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