I didn’t want you to see this one on the bottom f the deck.

Victoria Dillard Daily

I sometimes wonder, what will become of me?
I watch frail fingers tip cereal boxes into lonely shopping carts, then witness their shuffling feet take them nowhere. It’s to much effort to smile, to try to twist the cap off the bottle and release their effervescent self. Their in there, these men and women, these frozen soldiers, between glass bricks the world can’t see.

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