Early On The 5thHere I sit, almost lonely.
It's just all so ridiculous, so insincere; moot.
This futile existence is plaguing me. I desire more in life than the worthless, than the faint and fast fading...
I desire more steadfast talismans, ones that cannot be diminished by lie or truth, that which cannot be touched by time or decay.
That which is perfect in both theory and practice, that is not tainted and stripped of its adulterated virtue.
Is it such a crime to long for that which cannot be tarnished? That which lasts forever?
Must I need more than all that I have, than all this?
Why can I not simply and foolishly be sated...
Poetry by Sarah Parnes
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Written on 2017-07-05 at 06:56
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