Constrictions Of Conflictions

Random color pattern

Concession is the lonely grant

To confront the meshed confusion

From  which one fabricates illusion

To make life somehow relevant.


If the mind within the mind construes

To pick a rose, or a nose

Or, perhaps, resplendent clothes,

Consciousness cannot but choose

To conform to inside views.


Externalities can contradict

Entangling what to predict

With unexpected choices picked,

Catastrophes barely tricked.


The rat of this, the mouse of that

Menageries of what or whom

Swarms of misconceptions zoom

Of where a tit for tat may loom

So none can know where it’s at.


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