Poetry

Act of a Mime (#191)

I know not how to move,
Or my nerves how to soothe,
I am cast within a glass box,
A prison of no visible locks,
I have lost my sense of time,
And born the mantle of the mime,
I am silent as I search for what I do not see,
A painted face to show how I should be,
I mimic the life around me,
In a glass cage, I cannot flee,
I am hollow with no sound,
Not tied, yet bound,
I seek color in mine sight,
There must be more than black and white.

Any Thoughts?

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