This is where I guess things ended;
where they came to run
from a justice
too impossible to rename. Too far from hell's notice
to be dismissed, or reclaimed
by anyone of so-called importance;
by anyone who might know how to develop some form of solace
for the souls left to wallow
in their choices;
I look for the less lying and winding road
and eludes me, and invites me to hope
in some form of psychoemotional monopoly, that I am told
is almost probably
worth something. But then, if I may be so bold
the edges come off a little too easily.
Even out here, everyone knows
what a Merlionsman might one day be.
Even out here, it doesn't quite get as cold
since even a dead and long-lost caldera
might sometimes produce a little heat.
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