💾 Archived View for zaibatsu.circumlunar.space › ~krixano › phlog › 012219_Over.txt captured on 2020-09-24 at 01:35:07.
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Over and over 10, 20, 30 - times Reading, thinking Wondering the place that spurs this Wrong here? Is that my what? Being Read? Nobody dictates it Don't intake it -- that's what I should think, sometimes is Then I see, Analyze this seems odd, and this Do they twist, swift, swap? Is this grown from outside soil? Is this how they see? broken pieces? Some missing Why continue? Some suggest no miss, hollow wishes not missed Stumble, trip, fall Regret the one - yet its placement matters No room to fill - Rather a pocket I give my eyes, they wear them with a self-made cleaner A cleaner that works if it's their eyes, not mine They think with their eyes with their cleaner They think what my eyes see With their ears I don't have a self-made cleaner I'm not skilled I ask for their cleaner I think with thier eyes But sometimes their eyes don't fully connect And sometimes a smear still happens sometimes After it all, I continue to Read, think how did I see this? Is there something I'm missing? Is there something different? Yet some don't consider, what's missing, what's different Why words that seem harmless hurt more than they seem because they continue to see with their eyes to see with their ears to hear with their thoughts Who is I? Which sides?