Is it possible that all this depression was exaggerated by the raging lusts of the mind,
And the supposed deterioration of a young vixen’s physical form merely an extravagant show orchestrated in the dim chambers of a confused mind.
All these days wandering the bare carpets, as if I were treading some large, extra-terrestrial distance,
Where specks of dying leaves, sifting through the saturated Sun air, lie next to chewed up pens and torn pieces of paper.
Does no-one notice the significance of the insignificant, brilliant details of the obtrusive elements of a normal day?
See how they mirror our shy souls.
Emerge and conceal.
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