They view the world as two,
One in which they live daily,
Secure, sound, understandable.
One in which they watch on tv
violent, volatile, confused.
My world is one.
I vanish before them -
Their eyes see through me, but
I watch them from a safe distance.
They sit inside, warm, welcomed.
A purple violet in a glass vase,
Water and wine in goblets,
A stenciled grape vine on the wall frames them,
A vision of two romantics like a scene from a painting.
I stand outside, cold, shunned.
A blackened rose in a paper wrap,
Hands and feet in rags,
A line of rooftops tower above and beyond me,
An earthen-worn scoundrel, I am a Dicken's like pauper.
Vast is the land I travel.
Varied are the people I see.
I am the world they watch on tv,
In person, though, I vanish before them -
Their eyes see through me,
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