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February 15, 2010
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The atmosphere is cold, dark,
Slathered in a leaky, insipid mist
That leaves a morose, gloomy mark.
Vapor trickles down the large stone blocks
Of the houses and statues,
Dribbling to the cobblestone
Where it hits the street and mocks
The feigned perfection of mankind's society:
Bulldozing nature and worshiping cruel deities.





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