Imperceptible Truth by A. Klesath

the paint drips down the wall
a painters nightmare
imperfection– no exception we see the flaws in the walls,
we blink and the flaws disappear
we fade to background and walk away
paint drips and imperfections–
the colors don’t match, the touch up is apparent
we blink and the mistake is gone
bleeding into the night, we crawl, we search, we turn
paint drips and imperfections–
we blink,
they scream, they shout, they clamor,
we close our eyes and ears.

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