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Aug 2018
I’ve forgotten how the sun feels against my skin
I’ve missed the chills the breeze gives
My ears beg to listen to the tweeting birds
Mind seems to have lost the memory of sight
Trees swaying, children playing
But now,
Smell of fresh cigarettes
The caffeine filled air,
We are stuck behind these grey walls
As each sun sets,
So does part of us
Starting with our reality
Cynthia
Written by
Cynthia  F/New Jersey
(F/New Jersey)   
175
     Tash Mckay
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