Like a dream painted by the colours of my mind
Painted by the hands of perfection
One could see it as two
Either the pure canvass to be tainted
Or to be marked visible
This dream surreal and enticing
Producing gullible expectations
But delusion has no player for this play
Nor has perfection been perfected
Spontaneity of the waking world holds much more appeal
And the minds eye was created by a much greater artist
So with no insults
Nor conclusions
My notion remains captivated followed by ellipses...
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