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House of Flies

Glass tinklings along the floor,
Scattered about more and more.
Showering, cascading, exploding.

Weary hands and weary eyes,
Continuous buzzing of the flies.
Aimless, directionless, searchless.

Unhung drapes and unlighted corners,
Echoing sighs of distraught mourners.
Hiding, covering, housing.

Weary body and weary mind,
Unyielding thoughts of the kind.
Trapless, doubtless, kinless.

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