I think we're alone now.
The curtains are drawn.
The keys to our new house are on the second-hand coffee table.
It's so quiet, it's more eerie than peaceful.
I don't recognise the neighbours voices.
I've forgotten our street name already.
I don't know the owner of the corner shop.
Is this what 'home' feels like?
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What A Time To Be Alive
कविताCollection of words. Each feeling, each emotion and each problem shared through a questionable stream of consciousness.