Contorted In Agony

I find my true self hidden beneath the shine of ivory. 

My words are but shields from the battle wounds of self-respect. 

What is this false reality of which I speak? 

I know not. 

I know not of what has come and what will stay. 

Of dreams and realities and of self. 

All I know is that which is my physical form 

Has gone off to the ivory palace

In search of a happiness

It may never find. 

 

 

 

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