Poem -

What was familiar

It's almost impossible to find the path through the rubble.
All that was familiar is blown up or burned.
Visions blurred, these tears make it double.

It's hard to see clearly what's too focused.
As we weave in betwixt the drama and dogma, were trip on the baggage we both left around.

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Notice

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Lucky to be alive

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Muddy tracks and that sudden fear.
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