Reflectionists

Coming
to sense is getting it down, on documents
of the clowns. Cloudy tortures travel
like spelling bee’s to my feet in surprise.
My eye and mind saw collections
of illusions, many were debated by not me.
I cursed myself somehow, a mirror broken
like my mind, luck has forgotten me for years.

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Author: leeethomas

Visual Artist, musician and writer from Australia. Interested in Love and the Mind.

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