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Is it just me here?
I’m I still living?
My fingertips can still feel this Earth’s heart beat sing.
These humans are as if they were sculptures.
I know that they can see it.
But I’m the only one who will speak.
It seems they are fearful, but why?
Am I the only one whose soul is anxious,
Waiting for that perfect moment to set out on its long sweet journey?
It is as if they have seen the world as if it had suddenly stopped,
Or are they machines, that don’t have any independence of their own,
And just sit there waiting for their next ...