There's a folly on the curved street in one
Of your famous villages
It stands...never becoming more archaic
I sauntered and it saw
I was more obsolete
It saw that I was no longer valid
Its own lifelessness rose above my eyes
Mocking my hackneyed existence
That folly could never be insecure...
Existence not of virtue
Nor of compassion
Not of greatness
But of an indelible stain from a rotting
And moving flesh of the most undesirable
Word my tongue has ever tasted
//The folly stands still, old and proud.//
Its gaze is riveting
I could not look away
The old fashioned warm lamps from its windows
Flicker showing off the spectre
Claiming its transcedental emergence
To my very soul
Passing in a light exposing my incompleteness
And I remain immovable in the pivot
Of the unsatisfying happenings of my days.
I see now
It feeds...
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