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One more poem and it's back to the work

that might come to define me in your eyes.
How does it feel to discover a smirk
in a smile that morphed into a disguise?
It feels like electrocution, like hate
backfired as capital punishment.
I guess it just was my ignoble fate
to be buzzed with no true admonishment:
Maybe I'm blind, or maybe I believe
in the growing fervor of my instinct.
When I cannot see, I turn and conceive
of thoughts overflowing from my dream's sink:
I should have got a stopper to bleach it;
now the truth is so sunk, I can't reach it.
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