Foggy
Each step feels like I am walking downward.
Stairs that become steeper and steeper.
It is that unsteady feeling.
It is that spinning feeling.
As each smiling memory becomes shorter-
The treacherous fog grows ahead.
And every time I try to look back-
I feel more exposed.
As if there is a crowd of people that are just out of sight.
Maybe my family.
Maybe people who are disappointed.
If I can pretend I am asleep.
Maybe this will all go away.
In this fog that resembles sleep.
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