This place is still, though marching along
To the beat of seconds’ time
Screens have long since turned black,
And even mirrors are empty, dormant
Seats unused to sitting remain vacant
From behind the glass
A powder-blue streak of sky jabs my eyes
In a violent attempt to escape the darkness that will reign in a matter of hours
Even cars pass silently by this house,
Preserving the quiet ever so politely
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