Reality is such a coward
Music drifting in the airReality pooling about my feet
Slinking off in a torpid mass
Wishing to be something else
Crying and withering
Folding in upon itself
Reality is such a coward
Music drifting in the airIf I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.
Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) American poet.
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