Sleep in dreams:
Raw found data, of what it seemed
Deaf voices, carrying sound
As we ripped out all the seams.
Stop the parade:
You know the execution's stayed
Mad men come very cheap
On the edge of a razor's blade.
Life's just a bauble's glint:
Antidote, for where the poison went
Want to leave behind this carnival
Before my heart becomes a barnacle.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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