Separate

Observer under glass
Submerged
Behind eyes seeing elsewhere
Just slightly out of time
Moving at a pace beyond my understanding
You are the sound of war
Of mushroom clouds eclipsing my horizon
The face of ache in beauty
You are perhaps a part of here
Or
Perhaps a part of somewhere that will never be
You, like me, perpetually in-between
That my actions and my mind exist
Separately
Neither beholden to the other
Sentience split between existences
Nowhere home
-EJoveJohnson

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