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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2174051
by Cheer
Rated: ASR · Poetry · Cultural · #2174051
A draft of a poem I wrote one day, on my way home. |NOT FINAL|
We look at life
We're so busy being lonely
We forgot about solitude

We're blind, but we do not develop our other senses
We put glasses on

Reality is as vivid as you can contain

Seeing light through the fog is nothing like opening your eyes

Opening your eyes after a night
in the middle of a life
is so different
and I wonder why

Sometimes white fog gets mixed up with light
and it saddens me.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2174051