puisi tentang rasa menyerah
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Glow of the Phone
In the quiet room, darkness spreads,
a screen glows with silent whispers.
Words drift like forgotten laundry,
the scent of detergent clinging,
to memories washed away.Fingers pause, hovering over letters,
as if searching for meaning lost.
The room holds its breath, waiting,
for acceptance to gently descend,
that all that's left is a memory.