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So I've come to a conclusion,

Everything and body is an illusion.

Any sense can feel a tense delusion,

Not sure what's real--

I feel deep confusion.

So open, so crucial 

So dangerous, so brutal.

The first page, the most truthful

Channels the first thought of its black-hearted author

Who debates so long, uncertainties feudal. 

How do I fill it?

A single line, the wrong color to commit

No, no, wrong.

Rips out the paper--

With that beautiful line

So young and naive

Wondering what it did wrong

When it was just a judgement misjudged

And it was the right color

After all.

This poem is about: 
Me

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