FOG
There is fog here,
I cannot see.
They seem to whisper
The world to me.
I walk around
Shrouded in a cloak,
Made not of fur
But of my own fears.
This is a city so bleak
That it can strangle you,
As you sleep,
Not turning back once,
So vibrant but desolate.
A frozen, empty smile,
Thousands of glittering faces,
False hopes, fake promises.
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