That suffering from not being able to speak one’s own words 

Mere repetitiveness adorn the speeches so carefully crafted

Being in the crowd, chanting the inessential narratives by rote

Marching towards the cul-de-sac with feet worn excessively

This fierceness with artificial fangs look meaningless

Overcrowded bonhomie rests on feeble purpose of reluctant sharing

Vice of being overtly interested in someone’s troubles seems sage

Alternatives never were, and never will be, but will continue


5 thoughts on “Purposeless

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