id: 13910439
What falls from the darkness
rain, or fragments of memory,
it is impossible to tell.
A wet face dissolves into the night,
submerged beneath a storm of droplets
that slowly erase every trace of expression.
The city moves on
as if nothing ever happened.
And somewhere beneath it all,
someone stands there,
unaware of how much of themselves
has already begun to disappear.
Sometimes, we are not crying.
We are simply being erased by the world.
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