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  • Writer's picturewhit


The leaves fall onto empty sidewalks my footsteps are obligated to crunch them the crackle echoes through the cloudy haze as the windows gaze back at me

people have disappeared this deserted place feels like an abandoned home

somewhere deep in my heart I remember what it's like to be hustling here yet I can't reckon the last time I was in such a  rush

my slow pace shows  how much of this I am  avoiding

avoiding classes               homework               studying               feeling anything other than total independence.

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