Trails
- Feb 19
- 1 min read
Updated: Feb 26

Your name’s a whisper, lost in ink,
A puzzle piece, a missing link.
Numbers scratched, a coded lie,
Burned-up maps and alibis.
You think you’re safe, you think you’ve won,
But games like these are never done.
You left no trace, no path, no guide
Except the one inside your mind.
Trails






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