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Middle World
The birds are chirping good-morning to each other
The lawnmower is playing its fanfare
And the applause of the AC fills the void
Lying on the remnants of an ancient being
Its relatives surrounding me, having lived through conflicts of love, war, and passion
The bricks lying in perfect symmetry
Forming faces with no emotion and doors that cannot
open on its own.
The gravel beneath me houses an alien world
filled with creatures I pay no attention to
The air is clean and the grass is cut
Its juices occasionally hitching onto my shoes for a ride
The sky above me is overcast without a hint
of blue; Its world forever beyond my reach
But somehow, sunlight still manages to illuminate my face
Somehow the ray’s warmth still manages to electrify my soul.
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