Sitting on my hotel room’s balcony camera always close by
Cambodia’s heat and humility will unhinge any reason why.
a man one hand ranting in the street, my interest peaked
the rage in his eyes, boiling bubbling burning turmoil inside.

He pointed cursed and yelled! I think Cambodian I don’t speak
It appeared he had gotten the last word in with his demons.
As the man’s anger subsided still it was clear he was divided
continuing on his destination this battle headed for escalation.

His demons launched their attack circling to hit in the back
this man let out a battle scream the man turned mad dog mean.
Here he would make his stand to the death! even with one-hand
to the victor belongs the spoils in a twisted reality theirs only toil.

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