Lenses

“I see the world through the window of a home,
built with a vision unlike anyone’s.
Through the glass like lenses,
transparent, colourful, or all grey.”

Feeling like I am watching the world from a different lens. Everything is moving with its own pace and everyone is going along like usual, and me, making up some characters out of people, reading poetry in someone’s eyes, feeling pain through words, filling up empty spaces of things I want in my life, living stories while watching people go by me day to day.

What is it that is fixed in my eyes and heart?
What I feel and see, hear and say, are completely weird/new/different!
Nobody gets it, even I don’t sometimes.
And the world moves on,
and I keep playing, seeing, pausing and replaying it all with my made-up lenses.

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