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Apr 2021
I desire to leave, to disppear, to slip quietly into the night
On the last bus out, to the last possible stop
Discreetly removing the trail as I go
And with it every memory I left behind
When the sun rises, so will they
And there'd be nothing left of me
No clothes, no books, no wall marks
No face, no voice, no tingle of a touch
I was there, now I am here
Burn everything old and get lost in the new
underthesheets
Written by
underthesheets  F/Philippines
(F/Philippines)   
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