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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1189541
out-of-sorts
          the city flows around me,
          past me trodding
          my circle
          of daily ritual.
          i go through scrapes,
          i lose old ladies...
          sleep awakens me
          at odd hours.
          staring out windows,
          i wait
          for my escape.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1189541-lost