Oblivion

In the morning solitude
The frost slowly melts
On cold glass doors
Touched by the first rays
Of a subdued winter sun
You can almost hear it;
The crunch of breaking apart
Atoms split, dreams depart
Just pale lonely droplets
Sliding down the panels
Gently trickling into oblivion!

Refugees

The morning air felt still
As if it carries the weight
Of another magenta night
Men crossing borders restless
Leaving behind the city lights
And little packets of memories
Strewn across echoing hallways
Holding scraps close to the chest
Passports, IDs, cards, and such
For what else are we but barcodes
In this unruly, ravaged world!

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