Untitled Again - Poem by Srijeeta Manna
I wither away with time.
The wind still blows across my face,
whispering in my ears
the reasons to embrace.
The shadow behind me
still stands there,
though a little apart.
I do not know if it is an illusion
or a dream,
or an entire theme.
Necropolis is what I call
where i bury myself
over and over again.
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