it's easy to do,
everything is outside along with our insides,
i see a blanket of white
dropped by a fast moving
it makes part of me feel warm and cozy
and though it's white
all the world's colors lie on it's surface,
where would i go to seek anything?
the outside is the mirror of my inner mirror
step away and the images are lost to themselves,
You're a poet...and you know it!
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be yourself, the real fictional character?