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the Sky Obsolete

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Clicking up the channels harking
Tales of a familiar stranger’s glory
Gossamer but man-made panels marking
Those ignorant of their own story
Who wander down a dead-end street
And proclaim the sky obsolete

Excess and deviancy is our bane

Tortured by mistakes we can’t erase
A silenced victim writhes in pain

Tears relieve a dying face


Fools still demand utmost respect


While hearts and wrist bleed from neglect





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