Animalistic Patterns

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Sensibility,.
Hope . . .
Madness!
Distortion?
Repetition, repetition, repetition.
Nothing after lonely trek of nothing
Decrepits looking to the black sky
For a heavenly lie of a caprice.

I see everything in this scene.
The end of our concept of time.
The end of those optimists who only envision the best
And to an infinite,
Brilliant
Beyond.
The end of rule breakers, benders, and brutes.
They all fade with the sense they aren’t needed.
They fade because they’ve figured out they’re nothing.
They hold no benefit to human nature’s vapid, wild core.

But in the same way nature’s wilderness has been,
All of humanity’s idiosyncrasies have been seen,
Dealt with,
And reprimanded only to arise again.
Just as we ludicrously hope to tame nature,
We hope to tame our fellow man from its
Archaic,
Exuberantly destructive
Structure.
We are are habitual animals,
Tearing at another’s flesh and licking each others wounds
Until even our bones disintegrate in the poisoned earth.

So as I said,
I can see everything in this scene.
There’s no sensibility.
No hope.
No madness.
No distortion.
Just animals behaving the way they unfortunately do.

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