There is a sickness of being
That cultivates us unbeknownst
So that unknowing we innocent
Cultivate back and that we come
Stupidly sadly wrongly embrace
With each deliberate scene
Ones that our beings create
As if in our waking dreams
We cannot get enough so
Drowning out our contacts
With real life unimagined
Also uninterrupted yes and
Told by media to us so very
Boring Quick adopt a person
Another’s persona so you
Will neither be singled out of
Stand out and examined com-
Mented demented furiously up-
Down-swing-bailed-beat-pounded
Around ! Till you barely exist
So that there is barely of you
Yes you - any trace ! They and
You have sadly worked to erase!
Without any good notion of grace!
And yet we did it to ourselves in
Part so we would not ever be
Responsible to answer ever for
Anything that we might do on
Our part as that idea be so scary!
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