This poem has no title. I would love comments and critiques. Please don't hesitate or feel shy to post your thoughts!
Warily, I watch
the spectral spirit
– not of heavenly spectrum –
grind in grains of falsehoods and lies
into our wounds – bloodstreams – hearts
‘till we – unknowingly – live lies.
To phantoms – we gain close proximity.
Heaven and us – far apart
Reality: Resurrection!
relax with us
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