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Blind

How like a blindfold love is,
Presenting forth an image that covers your sight,
Blinding you to the reality that stirs around you,
Making you blissfully ignorant to the darkness that surrounds,
Hiding the truth.

Yet the truth is always there,
A blinding light pressing through the stifling layers of that image,
That lie put forth like a wall around all reasonable senses,
Causing a smile on its victim’s face that begs to be mocked,
A fool’s smile.

So bewitching is the untruthful dark of lies,
So tempting is it to stay in its embrace that we forsake all else and do not see,
We do not see until it is far too late,
We do not realize how immense oneself is without walls,
And so it comes.

Inevitably the light burns through our otiose veil,
The truth floods through our mind drowning all previous notions,
It brings to bear the true image of what was hidden,
The lies scattering beaten into our heart with their vicious venom,
Then comes the pain.

The torturous dull pain of realization spreading throughout our insides,
The floor rising up to meet our knees as we grovel,
Humbled by this divine reckoning that grips our being,
Stuttering sobs the staccato racket that echoes through our room,
And the darkness comes.

I know the truth now,
Yet it did not set me free,
Trapped here I am,
In this flesh and blood prison of suspicion and doubt,
Forever to twist in the miasmic maze of my thoughts,
The piercing truth as much a poison as the lies that sheltered me,
Perception fades as sorrow takes me,
A broken wretch,
An emotional failure,
An eternal loser in life’s game of love,
A Russian roulette with emotions,
And I’ve lost this round.

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