Marching

my own apathy
becomes the notion
of feeling more than i want.

i know that i am not at home,
but i can’t quite remember
where i really am today.

somewhere an alarm sounds,
a warning flashes unheeded
on the screen.

“do something,
say something,
be someone.”

this began as a sentence
and it ends
as a frustrated sigh.

[last stanza cred: HP]

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3 thoughts on “Marching”

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