Mundane
Mundane

Mundane





Am I bitter or angry 
Thoughts in my head seem to annoy me 
My soul screams of sadness in dreams
I don’t feel sad, am I? 
Quite deducing.
Joy incessantly greets me, 
Naturally, dissect my feelings;
Today, I dodge them
Not the season for weepings—


Time travels ahead,
Real movement remains in my head. 





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