Self, disclosed

How insufferably disorienting distracting, tormenting it is to see anything clearly feel anything, really with my shadow running loose in whom can I confide when the part I need to hide is all I suddenly seem to be perhaps it must confide in me Poor shadow- to satisfy you, I'm at a loss I fear the only impulse I have is to find someone else who can But where is the heart of mass through which light can't seem to pass It's this that makes the shadow cast and needs to be held.