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Myopia

de Mizmor

Anything but
It's just too raw
It stings against the wind
We seek escape 'round every bend
We simply cannot cease
Scratching
Tonguing

Maybe here or there
If we could only bear to quietly sit alone
What if there was no problem?
What if this was enough?
Creating codes for cracking
Obtusely spurning nature

It's painful to be present
For life's an aching thing
Swaddle us in fiction
Soothe us with commission

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