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Lucid
An upside down book’s pages keep turning,
I’m playing dead in a theatre of war,
Luminance weaves into passion.
To sail away into fantasy, to the wraith of tonight.
A connection embraced only in repose,
As lost loves are left wandering the streets.
Acting out scenes to scripts never written,
For the sake of patience, I’ve turned my cheek.
As nearby strolls are of enough reward to ground my careless needs.
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