What Curious Creatures Are We

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What curious creatures are we, looking always for validation,
Like abandoned souls seeking resolution in an endless limbo.
Without a source of recognition, true or contrived,
We shrivel into pitiable, primitive beasts apparently unworthy.
Temperamental, lamenting creature, what is it you crave?
Only to know that his soul has significance.
Only to know that he was not fruitlessly birthed.
Yet you leave yourself susceptible to my seed of faux-benevolence,
From which grows your tree of naiveté and my luscious fruits.





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