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Figment of My Imagination
What you believe,
Doesn't bother me at all.
I am not the one walking over my beliefs.
Torn and tattered by self deception.
Pretending it is not debris from fallout...
That has totally collapsed from standards and values.
Or sitting relapsed and stifled,
From attempts to rejuvenate relevance.
Based upon a 'normalcy' that once had been declared.
Yet obviously bankrupt from a corrupted consciousness.
But then...
Should I keep those thoughts also to myself?
Or is this too...
A figment of my imagination?
Stored within the embittered heart...
Of one who has lived a life disadvantaged.
You tell me.
Since I am the one,
You say...
Has vanishing ideals.
That may be 'your' opinion.
However...
Which one of us is deluded,
Will not be a cause of debate.
Not when the truth of observation,
Is at stake.
What you believe,
Doesn't bother me at all.
Have it your way.
I don't have the credentials to convince.
Or am I here to try to open anyone's eyes.
And of that...
I am grateful to feel.
poem
by
Lawrence S. Pertillar
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