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The Escartment

Wilting seasonal scales of fear,

A provocative loosening of security,

I’m afraid of normalcy,

I do not want what is,

I’ve seen this landscape before,

Sometimes comforting but this week I’m nauseous,

I look to others for inspiration,

I find much the same verse as what I intend to relate,

And my chin sinks to my chest,

My eyes close,

Many thoughts of previous ignorance arise,

A wet substance runs the contours of my face,

And I think maybe this culture is a spoiled group,

I think this spoiled group is losing its spoils,

And I see this week as one spent alone,

Although there are people of beauty surrounding,

I am closed off to their joy

Because I want more than what I have,

But I have what I need.

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