Reflections
only make a past come alive
temporarily.
When the mist clears I am still the same
Lost, Forlorn, Disillusioned.
What I am is not what I had wanted to be.
What I want is a mirage
slicing through the desert of daily living.
Perfection not my passion.
My passion lost somewhere
amidst the myriad thoughts
that plague a mind caught in the LOC
of life and death, survival and betrayal.
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