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beautifully mundane

I am not necessarily sure about a lot of things anymore.
I mean who can be entirely sure of everything– it’s impossible.
Existing lately has felt painful, yet beautifully mundane.
It is painful to exist, it be painful not to.
 
The silence of being alone makes for loud thoughts.
Being crowded in a room, stops my thoughts from flowing.
Existing alone, and in a crowd feels like a trap.
 
I always feel like I should be doing more or sometimes even less.
I don’t feel heard so I choose not to hear.
I can’t see what I want, so I chose to blind my path.
I feel like I know everything but also nothing at all.
 
Who am I– if I am just flowing by.
Time seems different to me, so I lost you.
It speeds by, yet feels like an eternity.
Stuck in the same spot, the farther away you go.
As I wait like a fool.
I am unsure of what to do.

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