Olivia Capulet

Incomplete

Transparent, with no finger tips,
Man made you
Just to be
Dependent.
And so I wonder
When was I
Intoxicated
By this mechanical Eden?
Though scentless,
Shapeless,
Without a soul
And no door to walk inside,
I am sheltered
Within this paradise
Of artifice.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, October 16, 2008

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Robert Frost

The Road Not Taken



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