The firmament's polluted
from more than one good blast
my foibles firmly rooted
in the fallout of the past
I felt like ore that someone mined
then dropped into a smelter
too dense I guess, and unrefined
to seek sufficient shelter
my veins exposed completely
to be neatly stripped away
then drained most indiscreetly
leaving emptiness today
which makes it truly hard to feel
remorse for lost production
a ghost that haunts the twisted steel
remaining post-destruction.
Are You Reading Me?
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