It's a projection.
Standing aside,
Moving along,
Drifting around,
Strung out, and...
Seldom adorned.
It's a shadow.
Of yesterdays gone,
When things were deeply mourned,
Happiness was ostentatiously celebrated,
Where matters were imminently important,
and not all worth feeling for, stood mostly dissipated.
It's a blandness.
Wishful respites,
Existing despite,
Thankful abounds,
For that, and...
All decreed.
Existing despite,
Thankful abounds,
For that, and...
All decreed.
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