Fighting the haze of another day
Remembering who I used to be
Walking through the streets
Where I was born and raised
Funny how they’ll all out live me
This city, she feels like rain
No grudges, and knows no shame
She can make or break a man
Well this city made me who I am
Who I will remain all the same
Stoic Poetry
Through The Cracked Window (Revisited) 
Beautiful poem, Stephen.
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