A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth.
Postmodern
Obtain the product of your waiting
Fruit of the vine
Kindling in the hands of nonbelievers
Who could not foresee, for, if they foresaw, they would turned and be healed
But history abhors a heel turn
Even though it delights the audience
So we rained down scorn on the constants
Enshrining change and death as our new gods
While Romeo cries allowed for a different ending
A medicine to mitigate the eternal folly of
Every delight having involuntary conclusion
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