The Authentic I

I cannot see untainted, The world without the warping windows. I fail to make, for I am merely An illusion of inconsistencies Stolen from society. I wonder how open a mind can be before its brains start to spill. The buttons on a blouse, the proportions of her face, the rules of a tennis court, Lost in this familiar place. The simple essay makes me think. A pen out of ink. We shrink. What will happen when I experience The real world? Get a grip And grow up.