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When I hate, my enemies
seem happier than I’ve ever been.
They breathe my air, take my toys,
last night they even broke into my dream
When I hate, the sun is pale,
hurting them – that’s my secret wish.
I keep walking and falling
on surfaces slippery like jellyfish
knock on my mind with metal bars.
Do they hate me back, do they?
Do they also keep looking at their scars?
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How we observe and how we reflect.
The observations and reflections of a traveller in a foreign land.
The facades of a perfect home.
This peom is about a woman in my life, who is suppose to be there for me but is not.
Dreams, desires, id and ego.