People are so precious.
Each layer,
more fragile than the next.
Each thought,
coded with thoughts of self.
Strangely presenting oneself,
as a present.
A gift,
wrapped by divinity's fate.
I use to look in eyes,
in see life forming in them.
Now,
I just see society's mirror.
Now I just see pretenders.
As,
these sentient beings wash away what reality means.
Wash away what it means to see.
Placing their lives in,
the formulation of identity.
One wonders,
to identify with two does that create three.
Does three find self after two is seen.
Is two the need?
To be like two,
is that what it means to be like you?
Or, are you three?
Are you the one that needs to see?
Or, are you seen?
©lamarcus12
L