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Sep 2021
Once again, September has come.
And just like that, the air thickens
Like the year before this
And the one before that.

Only this stubborn September
Marches in heavy-footed, loud-mouthed
Like a fascist on a podium, claiming comic Uncertainties behind a lectern

For the hopeful to hear —
The wide-eyed, rose-colored seekers.
We are silver bobs hanging on a wire,
Stricken by Achilles himself.

It is December soon.
By then, our ankles will be sore,
Our heels pierced,
Our pockets empty.

The arrows come shooting
Like eagles on a mission,
As we swing endlessly
Back and forth,

Suspended from a fixed point —
Praying that time,
Hoping that gravity
Makes the clacking stop at once.
Written by
ali  21/F
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