Staggering
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And through a haze,
without a word,
I march for days,
my movement blurred.
My life a stir
in slow motion,
yet still linger
without notion.
As if adrift,
time fathoms smog,
the sands I sift
midst looming fog.
Seek quest or coast?
I'm but a ghost
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Posted on July 14, 2023
Copyright © Line Gauthier | Year Posted 2023
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