The late departure on an early evening
of a lone traveller from a city filthy.
His bags on his back and sandals on
his feet, he is determined that from this city he must flee.
He doesn’t stop to say goodbye, or take
in one last look. On and forward he strides.
His ears are not seduced by the sounds
rising high, of people in the throes of incest by a burning fire.
His eyes are not lured by the show of
flesh by loose women as they peddle their wares,
or fooled by the illusionists as they perform their sleight of hand tricks.
He quickens his steps and hastens his
departure away from the crime, from a
city riddled with gutters and grime.
For the love of this city, so much blood had he spilled.
For his devotion to this town, he had slain many a man.
And in return for his love and devotion, this city had given
him endless pain and toyed with his emotions. Shattered his dreams and wounded his pride.
His heart is now hardened against this perverted town, as
he trudges on forever forward bound.