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Kindred Spirits
We blew it
Strange creatures are we
Those who have been forsaken
By our own creations
To the depths
Of an abyss unseen
But for our
Worst nightmares
We are the best and the worst of us --
Painted men selling
Paintings of paintings
On shadowed corners.
And we walk by
We must not.
And now,
Lying in bed,
With her,
I stare out the window
At a concrete catastrophe.
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