too the valley where it sits

The morning looks hazy, the only sun breaking through
shows shades of orange.
Fires. Smoke. Wind. carryting the trauma to here,
to the valley where is sits.
It’s not unlike reading, doom scrolling, social media.
Ingesting the strife, unhappiness, and trama seen through the eyes
of many,
of strangers.
That mess sits with you, carried to you by a platform,
and settling in your valley
Making it hard to breathe.
Hard to see.
Hard to think.
Hard to see.

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