The Tribe of the Lonely
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A corona virus, isolation, boredom prose poem
I'm one of you - the tribe of the lonely - forgetting ourselves in monotony.
Our shelter world is a shifted reflection of reality - we are frozen in time.
I wait, set aside, a marble girl carved by the chisel’s kiss
but I'm real and full of desires that are ready to be used again.
I'm eager to engage should we end this viral scourge.
I want to live a life - I want memories to name.
I'm seemingly safe - but the cost is paradise.
Copyright © Anais Vionet | Year Posted 2020
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