feet move in a swift pace,
fast as they can
soon to be distracted
by the yellow moon,
shining stars
and streets unknown.
memories are fading,
with the setting sun.
familiar places become unknown,
may june july
all drift away.
the grass undernearth
my feet is cold,
and damp.
a orchestra of crickets
play a midnight symphony
unheard of before.
the memory of this music,
so faint, distant.
an almost...
but not complete.
memories of this place
were always kept inside.
within metal walls,
a creation of man,
his creation.
sounds of the outside
almost never drifted
into these spaces.
fleeting emotions
that only exisisted
within these created
spaces.
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