We move in miraculous ways
We're still attached at the hip
We still see the same rain
Yet it's strange
We are see through.
Made of broken glass,
I can see you, you can see me
But you're helpless, nothing we can do
We share all the pain, but live to see different days
We hide behind a face
And we go out to play.
When will we ever stop playing dress up?
And cloathe ourselves with each other's truth?
Will we forever remain see through?
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The Spiral
PoetryA deep dive into thoughts about the universe, life, emotions and more, down an endless poetic(and sometimes not poetic) spiral. We follow various characters.
