Jagged Edges

The disconnect between reality and 
the inside and
the outer world

then there is me.
standing, usually
somewhere between.

What is real?
How do you know?
How do I know?

When those worlds do not intersect cleanly
and leave their jagged little edges

who is there to turn to 
and remark upon their beautiful shapes
the dancing that the light makes when traveling across them?

and I
still standing
see and absorb
for what?
For whom?

Is it for no one? 

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