We are all creatures of our own design,
worn and torn and beaten down the line
sometimes we get wayside back in time
mostly we just play the broken kind
I pray that I may be
soft and malleable of mind
digesting all that we can find
given or taken or otherwise
trying to not just be hypnotised
darkened just to play the sun
life of shiny reflections
closed to full inspection
keeping a buffer from everyone
sometimes truth is better
Like starting a book, a beautiful cover
a few sentences in, a few questions asked
a brief encounter, too brief
stunning and bright, in so many ways
I cannot then follow that up,
i leave it too long for my memory
for this golden stories patience
it will leave me and go to another
but they will truly be worthy
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