TOO LATE

We have mistaken the armies
of impotence for those of
insolence, though both
squat together, shriveled near
the corners, along with dust balls
and lonely threads.

None of what we see is
of any importance,
and the penetration of pain,
this realization of the times we live in,
flanks our better judgments,
turning our civil maneuvers
into full retreats.

It remains amazing that
the absurdity of the solutions are beset by
the agony of the situation.

In the end, we will regret it all
and live out amongst the universal silence
which signals a universal
shrug.

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