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the Journey of my mind

I cannot write poetry . However,what I write, I cannot call it prose. Whenever I've shown it to someone they said it was poetry. You read and decide then let me know



Tuesday, 31 March 2026

The Last Day-- ACROSTIC

 Time ticked like every day

Heedlessly I went about my way

Ensnared by time.


Lurking somewhere,

Anonymous,

Stealthily you approached,

Terminating me.


Death, you are merciless.

Abruptly, you claimed me,

Yanking me—as if I were nothing.

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