The strings that pull,
They don’t see,
The thoughts that fight to rule,
An encroaching sea.
The views that want to control,
They, in hordes patrol,
They, in a long time chase,
Veiled to the face.
A chaotic chamber,
Waves unwilling to slumber,
Colourful is the external,
Murky is internal.
Smooth the edges,
They ruffle again,
Straighten the verges,
They revert to a lopsided plain.
The battles are undying,
Midnight is prying,
Strangers...
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