Fleeting Thoughts at 12 midnight #1



if time determines the future,
then our fate is blur and not sure.

if past is meant to be forgotten,

how can we begin?

your voice is an echo,
like a fictional beau.
it fades, it does not stay
something that vanishes away
you are like a maze,
a conundrum that blaze.
You are what I’m not.
the south of every north.

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