Dawn’s day fantasy

Talking to people

just like every activity

just prepares you to talk

to more people.

Two neutrons,

then a charge,

the bridges held by the good will

called trust.

Words are just temporary nonsense.

Talks vary in quality

and in perspective.

From sad jester to genuine saint, white knight to prude nun.

Heroes collectively elevated

in our heads

names given to swords;

Legends risen to end gracefully

or to eventually fall.

Look behind the mechanics

shallow intentions with no larger purpose at all.

My will is stronger than some chemicals

my mind in control tries to be strong.

And if there is nothing but a certain truth to life

waiting for me;

would be thinking it

really

be so wrong?

I think I have ripped the curtains too soon off.

Does this mean

that I am doomed?

Something left for me,

not to do,

but aspire to be

listen to

in a man made illusion of worth?

Is there

anything despite crisis aversion,

bragging rights and better food at all?

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