Existing Outside the Lines

Messy Memories.

Troubles not foreseen.

It will surface as though,

a lifetime were spent conducting our own scenic symphony.

But then again,

who is to say,

that what seems…

are artless creatures of our dreams.

I am the sort to find no difference between a

snowstorm and…

a mystery.

The sisterhood of blocks made in mortar and misery.

The elusive nature of things…

A hallucinogenic with never-ending complications…

Of who I am?

What I see?

And, what it means to just be.

To create, and to confront, one has to be an outcast. MASHA GEESEN

Outcast

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sps-5

Discarded on the side of a road.

Not a soul to wonder why.

Occasionally, receiving audible gasps from those passing bye.