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May 2020
it ended
a milestone, a fire-
work without the blast
quiet, underwhelmed I fell
asleep

but this end,
the bittersweet replica of
the memories and books and words
of crowds and hallways and people
whose faces pass and pass and pass

this end, it has to mean some-
thing, thing that I can't hold nor revisit
but the thing that sinks in the encrusted
bit of my heart. The thing that will manifest when
years down, in a new home, or a new country or a
new mountain. This thing, the four years of life here,
there, nowhere, is, in many ways,
everywhere.
a graduation poem (i finished college today and my thoughts processed it like this)
Anna
Written by
Anna
119
   Bogdan Dragos
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