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Sep 18
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?
Irielle Noxis
Written by
Irielle Noxis  25/F/Philippines
(25/F/Philippines)   
50
   Pax
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