"tautologous" poems
And what would happen if you
Looked into my eyes...
And realised?
These glazed eyes,
A distorted tautologous window.
A facade of transparency.
The window is misted
It’s distorted with the touch of an October morning.
And I fear.
You will not see through this window,
This glass.
Until it has shattered,
And all that remains is a soul,
That has been freed.
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 10:19 PM UTC