Under the lens

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Eyes are everywhere.
They follow me
Through my damnable ways
And judge the contents of my erudite mind

They are hidden pustules
Of spite and jealousy
Lending their penchant for accuracy to those
Plotting against me

Wicked and laudable
In the way they play me
I live my life in fear of their harsh critiques
And lamentable correctness

I am merely a girl-shaped bacterium
Under the lens
Of the almighty microscope
That is life





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