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Poem: Dead soul
Her world is falling apart
the time when she takes a second glance
of her past
in the mirror.
Her name, her memories,
everything seems not right in the place
and then, she is
fading to the dark.
Drowned to the pool of blackness.
The right things, the wrong things, are indifferent.
When she is,
not a living soul.
Doll, living doll, living dead.
that’s what she is now.
Not a dying soul
just dead.
2010, in Indonesian class.
(Source: skyshader)
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