Inside Out

Is this your inner life
or some projection
of what you think it should be.
A menagerie of things
stolen from passing strangers.
Is you, really you.
Do the photographs you post
add anything to the continuum.
Or are they a symptom of decay.
From the inside looking out,
does the world  come with greetings,
like an old friend, you lost long ago.
Or does it recoil, sickened at the sight;
of unloveliness made real.

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