When the light
fails to shine
on the room of
the chosen
The crowds will gather
around the lost universe
holding a choice
born of nothing but
the perception of
sanity
A state of mind
often confused for
the wave walking
to the table
I follow them all
in my locked canoe
Thrilled by the
pressure of the moment
Where good and bad
are forgotten drummers
lost within the beat
of the angry mob
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