March 23, 2012
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The streets are filled with careful clutterings
Of broken rules and long-outdated dreams;
The wanderers tripping over their shoe strings
To see the wretched wreckage of their schemes.

The branches of the trees droop softly down,
Encumbered by the humming hives of bees
Whose buzzing whispers fill this tired town,
Spreading quiet fervor and unease.

A masquerade of fallen kings and queens
With jaded hearts and colorless disguise
Dismantle one another like machines,
The dreadful scene reflected in their eyes.

One by one, the mortal disappear;
You'll hear no sounds of laughter echo here.

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