Reality

I have withdrawn into myself
where surrealism shines warmer than realism.
With a sigh I tell you,
that cut in the mirror before me,
I met a man who wasn’t quite pieced together.
So close, why do I continue to see myself as such?
Oh, it’s so intoxicating to study a surrealist’s painting,
as opposed to the dead, spiny tree that’s painted in reality.
What an ugly thing reality is!