Like streetlights
still lit
past dawn,
the dead
stare at us
from the framed
photographs.
You may say otherwise,
but there they are,
still here
traveling
continuously
backwards
without a sound
further and further
into the past.
Like streetlights
still lit
past dawn,
the dead
stare at us
from the framed
photographs.
You may say otherwise,
but there they are,
still here
traveling
continuously
backwards
without a sound
further and further
into the past.
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