Sad Labels:
clarity
,
sad poems
,
sad poetry
the years assemble. quiet assassins. in tuxedos and top hats.
the world spoils. slick with the rot of dead choices.
a man is sold. a commodity of loyalty and mistakes.
the cost deferred.
our bodies replete with riches we may never experience.
time fashions its mazes.
with more questions than answers.
we are chemists. foiled by the bonds of carbon.
we are mathematicians. subsumed by the constant of division.
we are orators. for an audience of monsters.
we are merchants. selling ourselves.
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