I think be real to yourself
Don’t hate yourself
Consequently hating others
Our aspirations are all different
Well you wouldn’t dream of my dreams
And to me that seems impossible
I think be real to yourself
Because movement in one colour
Does not mean escape from another
Psychology is subjective
Binary conclusions are unrealistic
We float through existence
I am blue-minded in pink
Night-time skies alight
Framing reality in greyscale
The golden sun sets again
And in silence I roam through empty worlds
Wondering what death means
If anything at all.
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