I’ve nearly awoken
From this dream
Crouched in a tight ball
Protecting my Self from the elements
And the walls
Brown, Grey, Dust.
The Biting Cold abates, subsides
Every so often
Suffocated by still, crisp
Stale Air.
Too Dry; far too Dry.
I’ve nearly awoken
From this dream.
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Hmmmmmmmm!!