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Fractured Psyche She sits beside me, wrapped in multi layered clothing, fingers plucking imaginary threads, constant as the motion of the bus. A bundle, tied with string, packs the space between our seats, brushing against my booted foot each shifting turn. She converses with herself, distorted reality replacing lucid thoughts, reasoning as tangled as the uncombed hair framing her furrowed face; eyes exposing her tormented psyche, scrambled murmurings continuous. Grasping her soiled roll, she exits slowly, shuffling to an unclaimed spot on the dying grass, dropping life possessions beside the park bench, stretching out to rest among the others, long forgotten and cast aside, lost in the shuffle of bureaucracy. Tears trickle down my cheeks, mindful that justice is as erratic as the racing thoughts of neurotic perception. |
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