Empty Street - Poem by Emma Kemp
There I’m walking on cobbled stones,
but the tiles are drawings.
White stripes variate with black ones,
a hundred footsteps are written.
I forget to look right or left,
but the cars drive right through me.
Did I imagine seeing a silhouette,
no, the curtains are closed at night
I will return my walk in anxiety,
even though there is nowhere to go.
But I won’t be followed, cause you can’t see me.
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