From black glass flows a world of color
stories told by a thousand different voices
love and betrayal whispered in the same breath
as worlds come alive and die together
and all at once sanity becomes less than a dream
In the shadows, a blurred mirror image
eyes that see color in a world of gray
hands reaching out, searching for a way through
and always that cold glass waiting to be shattered
pressing in with its urgings to escape
its whispered promises of some waiting tomorrow
only a dream away from the unbinding
and the shedding of chains heavy on a flightless soul
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I’m ready for the aliens to land.
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Photo by Yanal Tayyem on Unsplash
2 responses to “Black Glass”
So am I.
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I too am ready for the aliens. Or… as I’m allergic to everything and I’ve always said to those who find me odd or weird… I’m an alien who’s ready for the mothership to come and get me. 🤣
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