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Nov 2020
first, you lose your voice.
then you begin to fade; like the moon, as the sun burns it from the sky.
your sense of self grows small,
as if it's locked away, in a place between worlds.
you're not you anymore; just the ghost of summer as winter freezes the world.
i think this must be like the collapse of a star: silent, yet screaming.
and in space, there is nobody to hear you.
Written by
Francesca Grey  29/F
(29/F)   
263
 
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