back to life. What could he do? There was nowhere to go.
He was finally alone. Impervious to their demands. And didn’t
the world stop then? He didn’t break through.
He faced a wall. His own makings, littered
at his feet, his fool’s mission since time began
slipping between cells, permeating moments into memory’s frieze.
Didn’t the silly world look jolly from the pit?
He could see it now. O, he could see.
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