London poems written from Estonia

London people on the streets
with little drinks in rickshaws crying
It seems very hard to get away from the asphalt cracking under us
there is a feeling
not exclusive to London
the feeling when torches light up a busy street
and rob you of your own glow

the loneliest city in the world
bars with open signs and crying rickshaws
the wind punches 1:07 while the city reflects in the air

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