63.Derelict like a building

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Where, a derelict soul like a building,
I should go through those streets,
feeling how leaves slash me,
until they are taken away by the wind,
I wouldn't mind.

Staring at the sun,
slightly shimmering,
I took the hand of shadows,
a childish aspiration,
for getting lost in the scenery,
to be part of everything,
but never present in the view.





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