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Irielle Noxis
Poems
Sep 18
The Echo of Being
Sitting on a plastic chair beneath the burning noon,
Music fills the air like a distant, hollow tune.
I drift between the realms of dreams and stark realities,
Intoxicated by the mysteries, yet bound by sober ties.
Am I but a thought that lingers in the night,
Or do I truly exist in this fleeting light?
Written by
Irielle Noxis
25/F/Philippines
(25/F/Philippines)
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