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Late?
March 1, 2017
Swept to the dynamic,
On my last thought,
I conjured up the paranoia,
Of the significant bloke,
Who is too pretty and coy,
I could have been him myself,
Latched to the endless void,
Of materialism and cyanide,
Lost all my choice,
Of perfection and time.
© Kate S., Hopkinton, MA
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