The Glass Dome
A glass dome, smudged
smudged from past fingerprints
from prodding, trying, sometimes
just too hard
to get in,
The dome glass was not too thick,
but impenetrable, a dream too
far away,
Inside the dome was confusion,
an impossibility of extremes
a life too perfect
and with sighs of; “if only”
Each day
more fingerprints would appear
upon the glass
of the dome of disatifaction.
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