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Apr. 8th, 2003

There seems no point to this.
Some try their hardest -
They toil to build a throne.
Hours are spent
Creating
Polishing;
But, still, there are absent links.
Upon arrival of these prodigalities
The throne begins to topple.
Carefully choreographed
Passages of rehearsed perfection
Are slowly turned around,
Broken down -
Crippled to walk no more.
There must be some point to this
If only it would show.



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natf
Nat S Ford
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