Into thin air, just like a black magic trick. I'd be tempted to think of a bad mojo, but there isn't.
And I breathe on, I walk with the outward appearance of life.
Did I ever say or act like I expected?
Without insulting the grief of those every Thursday at Plaza de Mayo, that is what happens with unexplained disappearance.
It doesn't heal but with a frank answer.
That is my side of things. What's yours? Have I not shown I listen?
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