A repetition of dreams. Uncircled thoughts. Unselected. Roamed about on her stage. The drama followed her instincts. A bunch of drowsy audiences. Invited by their fears of unrestrained light. An infection to their eye. Their only eye. Left. The other been washed away in their points of view. Bias.
The play continued, long after their only eye went to rest. The part they didn’t see was compensated for, in their dreams. Dreams that were repetition of each other. And therefore, alike.
Her acting was instincts. Missing. Next morning, from their interpretations. And interpretations said her play had a plot and a logical conclusion.
They never knew that the play went on forever. An infection that spread over to their lives.
Instinct had become their only eye.
Beautifully perceptive
… Creeping Bias that takes over logic… which was biased too in the first place… Instincts are dangerous things, when used with skill, no 
?
Yes, they can be killing.
Smile.
Well written.
Gives a lot to think about..
You are a promising writer.
Instincts are based on fear, revelations are based on fearlessness! Very good writing here. . . all over the place!
Keep the creative juices flowing; don’t let your intinct tell you otherwise. Thanks for creating and sharing!
Peace, Light and Love. . . Cordieb