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Joyfully Alone at the End of Time
This sunshine is a lie; lights on a stage filled with convincing cardboard props.
She, the actress performing a kitschy musical of unconvincing love and joy.

The audience,  suspending disbelief, oblivious to her dangerously frayed marionette strings,
As she sways to and fro under the careless hand of her own decisions.

Truth is the mud on the revolving wheels of time, hurling toward the corners of the world.
Her past imprinted in the tracks it leaves behind; a path she never wanted to follow.

Reality, laughs in the spaces between past and future, like the firefly she'll never catch.
Even if there was time to turn around, she'd sink into the sands of time.

How free she will feel when she stands in the ashes of the end of the world.
Clothed in her own truth within the final swirl of the four winds of time.
Thanks! And thanks for reading. Hope you're well!
I read and I'm glad that NS was able to reply, maybe it's because I operate in a factual world (among other things I'm a programmer) and don't understand poetry.
I can see and understand the allusions of it, but they get lost (to me) in the medium.
We live by each other and for each other. Alone we can do so little. Together we can do so much.
-- Helen Keller

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