Sweating beneath the drapes of waltzing
they are drawn across my ephemeral mind
I reach for the outline of shadows behind
but not being real, I struggle in futility
as the sketches are mere cataracts
of bloodshot sight, my senility
looms large without facts
lamenting my familiar failure
I charge with refuge for the shelter
of Wonder, seeking it's skill of burning
with smoke, red glows and change.
As my ally it will hurt me
more than any other.
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