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Residual.


Fatigue is only dust

Accumulating in the air,

Until your breathe it in

And that kind of dust

Takes each breath,

And owns the energy

Becoming my own enemy.

Then as a statue

In each burdened action

I will rust,

And into such a residue

I will be gone

By tomorrow’s gust.

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Categories: Blogging, Creative Writing, Flash Fiction, Musings, Nonfiction, Poem, Poetry, WritingTags: , , , , , , , ,

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