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Published: 2022-09-20 23:43:29 +0000 UTC; Views: 173; Favourites: 4; Downloads: 0
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Description
Somewhere back there,Towards the light,
Is the summons to pain.
If good intentions were a valid currency
You'd be richer than the glib fools
Who decide your concerns
And steer the path of your ideals
With their future babble
Delivered with the narcissist's
Oblivious unconcern.
The water barely moves
Across the make-believe land
In blinding morning and furtive dark
As if reluctant to participate
In the toil of the farmers' day.
Getting lost out here
Is as easy as the slow fall
Of night from day
The road you take is immaterial
Which is just as well for you.




















