Likelihood of being stipulated, encases me in a spiral of illusion, taking me to depths never shown before in my mind.
Giving an idea, placing it in imagination’s home-like infusion of prose.
Touching emptily, the sadness of a lifetime with feelings of remorse, bringing beauty into the crystal tears of grief.
Tasting the bittersweet joy of love and desire as it is drained slowly from without in hands of people envious of what talent I have.
Staring vacantly inward, I respond by writing of it’s painful loneliness in space.
Envious People
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