Let’s fix problems
by forgetting
burying
masking them—
living in the smokescreen.
One minute of pure agony
can be rapturous:
existence is duality.
Pain faced
— if and only if—
may possibly fade.
Fear confronted,
suffers a similar fate.
We’re the monsters,
fixing the parts we hate.
Maybe
we were never broken
But
resigned to being too late.
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