A hint of citrus dances in the air,
and the warm wind shows no affection.
Eyes gander and gaze in despair-
looking to find some connection
with this strange new reflection.
Into the mirror the eyes glare,
seeing what looks to be perfection-
but not the face that was once there.
In the pursuit of what you are not,
the idea of who you are is lost-
your persona is stained by ambition.
With individualism completely forgot,
the new reflection that is crossed
is a reminder of ones submission.














Comments
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MYSTIC SPIRAL CONSUMES MY ASS IN A CLOUD OF LEAVES FALLING FROM THE MOONS GRACE... do i fit in here yet? Didn't think so... Olive Juice Too!
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[link] guaranteed to thrill, chill and fulfill you.
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