If only the literature of Oscar Wilde,
could scar my impatient eye,
with the kaleidoscope of your vivid imagination.
Oh so naive..
is the heart of the human mind,
a heart which prays for the suffering to end
but not for happiness,
that will shine away the shadows of doubt
in a glass heart.
So you fluoresce
and uncover the curtains,
a showcase of smiles.
Warmth, Joy, form the skeleton
Of these chemical imbalances,
which have metamorphosised into
my very core.
I pray that this show never ends.
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