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(untitled)

              A ghostly bus rolls down the street, illuminated-
             never stopping- only to pass by me for half a second-
             I see my hunched reflection
             for half a second- then it’s gone.
             Yet I feel forever trapped
             In the inescapable image
             Etched on the edge of perception
             my soul riding towards some known
             but forgotten location-


weary, for eternity.
Written by baeeharp
Published
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