blend in.A Poem by witchofthisage
She allows herself one guilty pleasure
and goes on long walks during her favorite time of day: dawn, the hour before the dew has even settled and any and all figures can safely hide in the shroud of blissful anonymity that the fog provides. Then is when everything seems like a ghost of what it is, yet can never be more real. Then is when she finally belongs.
© 2017 witchofthisage |
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Added on April 1, 2017 Last Updated on April 1, 2017 Tags: prose poem, poem, poetry, prose poetry, random, thought snippets, calm, drabble AuthorwitchofthisageManila, NCR, PhilippinesAbout[ perpetually hungry 🌌 ] Rein. 19. SJW. Slytherin. master procrastinator. cheese monster. writer. pop-culture savvy. intellectual. more..Writing
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