Blind


It is real, it is not in my head

It is not something I imagine, out of fear or loss

It is not what you say it is

It is what I feel, and if that hurts, it is real for me.

It is a bottomless pit of hope, a spiraling staircase

A never-ending tunnel, a brakeless train.

I am blindfolded, or is it the world that’s blind.

 

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