Parallaxed

by Anita Lubesh

 

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Memories are slim chance shadows
That glide between the light and darkness

Imagination is a fat cat
Waiting to swell our indifferences

Hope is a ritual seizing of every chance we have
Breathing is an exercise performed daily

Waiting is a nervous habit, what are we waiting for?
Doom is nearby and calling cards are left

Defiantly… What are we going to do?

If you don’t believe the earth is not flat
Or that it revolves around the sun…

Go away.

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