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Sunglasses
Sunglasses
My sunglasses
Put an orange tint on the world.
It looks more desolate, depressing.
Empty. Broken.
The cars blow smoke in my face.
The chemicals burn down my throat,
cloud my lungs.
A cough growls out my mouth.
Snow muffles my footsteps,
months out of season.
I suddenly stop, realizing the truth.
I take off my sunglasses.
The orange tint remains.
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