puisi tentang dunia yang bergerak
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Empty Balcony at Dusk
The wind stirs softly, whispers
across the empty terrace, brushing
past the shoes lined like soldiers.I speak to the wall's silhouette,
words almost misspelled in thought,
as if they too have given up.Breathing matches the pulse,
each exhale a quiet resignation,
finding grace in silent surrender.Yet, as I pause, the world moves,
…