Inebriated Imposter

Cynical Wordsmith

The mind slows
And floats at the rim
Of an empty glass.
I love this feeling,
But I don’t need it.
It just makes me feel
Like my thoughts
Are average.
But the back of my mind
Knows the truth.
I am different.
I am unique.
And this self inflicted stupor
Is a macabre mask
Of normality.

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