Irony in the Heat of the Streets

I remember the streets were so hot. Left my blood cold.

Simplicity in the way we imagine how things could go. Then realize this

hand's fate is one that should fold. The context left in the hands

of ones who lack control. The irony of it all. Forgotten by moments

of snow glow. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

My brain state's relapsed. Back to being me trapped. Black sense with

my pockets matched. No longer broke now like a cast. Cast still segregated

by facts. Misinformation like educated last. Phone calls intercepted by masks.