Written June 19, 2020

there is a world
where shadows move
sundials

and the ignorant 
fall into an easy
rhythm

where colors are mixed
by unworthy hands 
on weak pallets
into paste that is palatable

where bravery is pixilated

and thoughts are made
two dimensional

where truth is found
trembling 
beneath a rock

and so the beat rolls on

as the world
tips precariously 
resting gracefully
on invisible madness

Myopic Scope © Safira Schiowitz