Poetry

Human Illusion

Old pillow, cushioned head

Worn, but never over used

You are worn out

And too often over used.

*

Most nights

It is only your

Thoughtless thoughts

That sing you to sleep.

*

But there are nights

When you read their name

See their face

Hear their voice.

*

Some one to bring alive

Your dreams

Because they no longer fit

Your reality.

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7 thoughts on “Human Illusion

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