Since when did we care about the echoes of the wind,
Whispering of the walls that turn out to no other,
Only to conscience our stream of consciousness.
Since when did we care to mute our melodies,
Songs of heightened aspirations like no other,
Only to have the trickling stream of the shower wash them away.
Since when did we care to hide behind canvases,
Careless calculated strokes distinguishing one from no other,
Only to have them melt to fill the void.
Since when did we care to be jailed by werkenglock,
Empty ticks in days and nights became no other,
Only to grasp a temporary respite from comfort.
Since when did we care so much about reality, only to be indifferent about Life.
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