Is it wine that is water,
to bread without meat?
Is it pink breath, is to air
without the rose, to eat?
Is it new windows, of lead,
to space cotton, ones head?
Is Sophistication a long stem,
of thorns pulled forever through,
your fingers, it's offered other
given hand, and stay asleeps.
Will you, would you, can you?
Show it how to be, forever not?
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