Drift.

Drifting along beside you, unknown.
Beside the filth and the magma of an impure motley of niche imperial-ness.
Beside the hopes for different
Beside the hate for the school, the home, the ambience
Fading into the folds of the shroud laid down by time
Voiding into a whole, beside you, unknown.

– From the collection of thoughts spewed on paper when the surroundings make more sense, or none at all. Of how life can drift by us, surround us, leave us anonymous.

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