This is a broken poem, really... it's just to clear my head of the pounding. Maybe I'll refine it, maybe I'll trash it. I'll decide tomorrow.
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I can see it in your eyes...
when you look at me, yes,
but more often than not
when you don't.
Am I really such a demon,
to your twinkling greens and blues,
that I should frighten you
and cause you to fear the worst in humanity
in we, because of me,
and the way I say what I see
when I believe in things?
Do I bring down your dark browns
when you focus on the horror
masked by my smile?
Do you tremble and quiver,
with slivers of shivers
as I deliver my masquerade?
Would it pain you to know
that it's all a facade, a fake
to hide the ache that you make
when you break the string of our gaze...
all because you see a little me
down deep in your wee little world,
in yourself...
My greatest joy in the world
can be found in your blues,
and your greens,
and your browns,
for that is where I am found,
where my soul does abound
dancing 'round your profound ideas,
in the eyes of the few,
it's the twinkle that I'm due,
found in the hue that is you
that says I am seen,
the me I can be
when we all see in honesty.
I can see you...
how you see me...
and despite all my wishes...
it hurts when you look away.
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