Fishing For Fish That Don't Exist

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Unseen by the world’s naked eye,
bubbles drift by the path of the night.
Gleaming with dangerous potential,
and murderous intent,
they silently float,
past the parasailing cat,
and the grounded fairytale.
I laugh, as a haughty smirk,
passes my face, as the bubbles do,
and I inhale them.





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