A Cruise Ship's Inner Blight

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The beckoning ballroom filled wall-to-wall
with guests: all sharply dressed, athirst to chat
shallow ideals of merely this and that -
built recklessly on whims that do enthrall;
a sight so grim, leaves eyeless man appalled.
Although sparkling champagne's rightly gone flat,
drunkards will drink to happiness; jest at
the heretic who doth not dance in hall.

A merriment of guile only suits he
who dances hand and hand with deception
and breathes for short-lived passion and suspense.
The man who stands alone looks out to sea,
where vast indigo skies will always shun
he who shall Waltz to tunes of ignorance.





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