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Hoax of Our Times
 
they held their face close,
so they could taste the flames.
they die one thousand deaths,
at their own hands before idols.
still they live on,
like morbid modernity,
caught in the upheaval,
of all the futurism.
this is the age feared,
dreaded by men; these perilous times.
unable to die but unwilling to live,
the timeline moves onward,
inducing violent spasms,
excused as inoperative coherence.

By southernblood

© 2017 southernblood (All rights reserved)

 

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