Messy Drabble #1

In the flesh, where the least

Can only be the ones which

Could be uncovered, oh, defeat,

Stares a mirror image,

Smiling lopsided, imitating

The persona outside the

Chambers kept inside the confines

Kept in the heart, soldered;

Normal, it seems but

Alas, the facade will never

Never, be conceived

Truly nor fully, oh the pain,

Forever scratching

Against the residue produced

By even the smallest

Of the smallest shoves

And pushes anew

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