The hand and the tide

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Nothing in my life could ever impress you
My artwork relinquishes any distinction
Of me. To anyone else I’m alive,
With you I’m a corpse. Disposable fiction

Paragraphs leaving my mouth are abysmal
I bore you instantly. I’m so profound
Everything I do when I’m in your presence
Takes me right back to the person who sounds

Like you. You’re different now. Replaced by horror
I stand beside time and inhale insanity
Watching you change makes me so, so confused
There was no one like you. No such profanity

What happened to you? Was it social status?
The tectonic movement of culture to culture
TheĀ scavengeĀ of person to unworthy person
The sick opportunity of being the vulture

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