LOST
I lie on the wet grass
the back of my head
making an imprint
like a snow angel
without the halo
I grab on to the sod
fearing I would fall
into the sky
speeding past the stars
into the dark silence
Not knowing whether I
will ever return to the
things most familiar
things that have always
been there
Without those
do I exist?
Without those
am I all alone?
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© Doghaus
21 November 2017
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Honestly,
Doghaus