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Fabricated Reality

My dreams are different patterns hidden in thread throughout a fabric

That hides them from my fading memory.

They are no longer the bright, rich colors of a brocade fabric

They’ve become faded, torn, and threadbare;

No longer soft as silk and gentle like cotton.

Instead they fade like rough and thick denim.

Once a beautiful chiffon,

Now a coarse polyester.

My once beautiful, full dreams

Are now tattered and unwanted cloth.

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