The end.

illusion

Wish I was blurry,
had less depth.
Could lie and word
what is right.

Instead I’m burst
inside with hurt
and sick with
alphabetic fright.

To sleep and forget
is what is hoped,
and awake to a new
thought. Tomorrow.

Can’t see or feel
or touch or smell.
Distorted thoughts,
reality dispelled.

Clock shows hands
tired and dull.
Seconds, minutes,
hours, days. Full.

Blurry thoughts are
transparent rain.
Real truth alights
in my pain.

Close it up
Away from thought
Tie it up.
Goodbye. Goodbye.

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