#25 Cyrus

| November 25, 2010 | 0 Comments

Faceless forms down nameless a street

The lost left whispering below our feet

No one cares to notice or try

No one cares to ask them why

Cyrus found a paper trampled on, it looked like one of those “have you seen my dog” posters you find on empty light poles. This one though, all crude and crayon, read “Have you seen my murderer?”

Now Cyrus finds he can’t elude the question and deep inside he feels driven to discover the mystery.

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