It is only in solitude In undisturbed peace The multitude benign Novels of mystery and fiction Or tunes bleeding out of buds Combined with aloneness I thrive Noise of not just the city But the voices unimportantly Whine and unsubscribe I can find no liberty In this circus; Confined The key is unreachable Yet I survive If a mirror were placed In an inconspicuous space I dare not try to find Albeit to look inside The only place I’m at home Now is in my mind I’m still alive
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