
Displaced
Read Count : 87
Category : Poems
Sub Category : N/A
I am austere to my time; a once captivating and ornate journey, now appears weaker in the threshold of my conscience. Each action of my own, is weak and undesirable as if I did not commit any action. When was this proposed? Am I faltered to suggest I am this way, or misunderstood in my own beliefs to that my actions are within fault?
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