And they engaged in themselves to another,
In the slightest per chance is lost,
In the realm of the mind to cease,
Came not the mind, but pleasantry,
And in their prison of pleasure wretched
Became the animal they once knew human,
And in the human they were, came none,
And of the nothing came utter bliss,
Once known were histories of love,
Now love becomes the MDMA of life,
In this, they walk with seeking rife,
And sounded their horns for new causes,
As shaken the roots in purpose forgotten,
Their eyes became but virtual cameras,
Watching the road ahead, but not seeing;
For to see ahead became taboo in thine eyes,
In millions of countless lives locked in wake,
This city that they call home in distant land
With no concept of family, marriage, virtue,
Thus aided history in accounting lesser times,
So that when they wake up, their days roll by,
Whilst their free-found state cogs its wheels
They too tune the minds of those whomever,
Like a metronome that ticks fast to no end,
Each mind bears the tempo and rhythm of the rest,
At last they walk in millions, knowing what it is,
Knowing not what truly is, nor firmly awakened.

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Life, Poetry, Works
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