Poetry of a Conlanger

Saturday, May 21, 2005

Two Words

Looking back through my book of memories,
I laugh.
I laugh the cruel laugh
of peers
to one who will be ostracized
in a few minutes.
I laugh at myself, then cry.
For written on each page
are but two words:
BLIND and NAIVE.
That's what I was.
Maybe I still am.
Who am I to say so?

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