Misplaced in this land
Garbed in our quintessence
In a space where
Everyone has
Too many names
An opulent place where
No one loves themselves
And everyone
Expects we know them
By their riddles and denigrations
Or perhaps their caprices
Merely, in the quickening
When all ships are adrift
Will one heed the
Hearing of their only name
Called out in despondency
I could see, hear, and feel this one. I am often intrigued by your ability to affect the senses, making the reader a member of what you have created. The camaraderie is important and often lost between the writer and reader.
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