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Delusional Dissolution

I feel as if all claims I made were sham,
 and reconstruct how folk indulged pretence,
 so I ignored my stunted lack of sense
whilst spurring fantasies of dreamt elan.
I prided my critique of those who swam,
 reflex objection to their competence,
 before abuse this morphed into offence;
now even I will pain at who I am.
  This coarse reflection could tell truths or lies,
   now that mind’s mirror and the mind are cracked,
    but better use than blinker inward sight.
  I tolerate myself, I don’t despise,
   so far preamble, void of worth or tact,
    but shadow needs a form, and too a light.
Written by Sonneteer (Lewis Robinson)
Published
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