BURIED UNDER THE MEADOWS

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a lifetime inhibits what my disorderly mind
cannot fathom. i, for some reason, cannot see
where my vision takes me, i am blinded by
something i cannot feel, i am blinded by
masks that take the shape of hounds and 
beasts and at most times i wonder why
would some feel so afraid to take a step
to remove those ghastly masks, share their
lives with each other, find their homes under
their own skin, but like me, there are some 
buried under meadows, under beautiful grass
living in a dream instead of living it. our
figures take the shape of fairies and something
beautiful, lying under tree barks, lying in complete
oblivion to what the world holds. 'open our eyes
and then we see the world' you say, not when
there is mud and and petunias growing from
irises that have been covered by the
darkness that they cannot even see.





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