Forty Two

Shattered.
Twisted.
Smashed.
Into one thousand broken pieces,
Sinking deep into the cool earth.
Losing all perception of reality,
Romanticism’s nightmare;
An invasion of the practical.
Wiping clean the slate,
Free of all fantasy
Of all imagination
Of all faith,
Everything,
Erased.
Replaced,
With images of the now,
And the future,
No longer time or space for memories,
No longer room for the past,
None.
Practicality corrodes the individual,
Swallows one whole,
Forcing one to contribute to collective thought,
Forcing one to lose sight of every single yesterday,
Forcing one to dwell in fear,
For all of eternity.

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