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Follower MAG
November 24, 2012
The muggy stream of conscience
Drifts leisurely through our minds.
Barely breaching acquaintance,
Our existences are blind.
Through clichés of who and why
Within the chorus line we hide.
Away from uniqueness we shy,
And from individuality we resign.
Our expressions are identical
To each thought and every line.
We're convinced it is biological,
To stay unquestioningly benign.
© Matt F., Pierz, MN
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