Reflection Depression

July 8, 2011
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They huddle in masses, staring out at

the bleak grays of weary water and

rust red of muddy shores.

The dusty sky conceals community,

gives way to clustered buildings but no homes.

Crude paint lies, the colors only painted on but

they'll never feel the sun.

The reflection speaks breathlessness, while reality speaks silence.

They should dive into the water world,

but they'll never leave their solemn city.

The gray is all they know.

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