We see the entirety of the world through the lens of love
The rose colored, lovely lens
That shows all things as beautiful and perfect
And death, as long as it is not one of us, is simply a lesser shade of sweet
Or the yellow lens
Of gnawing doubt
That presents everything as two faced
Nothing can be real and nothing is fake
Or the black lens
Which blocks the sight of all good
Which guts the world of all joy and color
Leaving it a meaningless husk
I've owned glasses of all colors
And all diameters
But I do not think that I shall ever find
a clear lens.
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