What’s Real?

He collects a strange assortment of things

things no one else can see

they sparkle, glow, and live with glee

soaring upon wobbly wings

 

They traverse all sorts of pathways,

the wise know to avoid

creating untold entrees,

waiting to be employed

 

They start as simple things,

a touch or smile maybe

they flow upon glowing wings

creating moments of ecstasy

but soon enough, you’re in the rough

wishing for memory

 

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