Wandering halls wandered by all,
a writhing maze of human flesh,
walls of chatter line walls of brick,
and floors newly waxed already showing scars of friction.
Always calm but for once an hour,
a flurry of people scrambling through,
all marching to a new death,
walking to their joys,
running to their melancholies.
Everyone feels differently.
I feel warm and belonging,
greeting friends and joking with unknown spirits,
Headed to math,
a snide determination and excitement fills me.
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