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Hope Void of Naïveté.

Finite resources
irresponsibly exploited
in the vain

attempts to circumvent
all those dull aches,
sharp pains
of withdrawal:

of the nearly, hopelessly

on the trivial,
cultural illusions,
ignore true importance,

pledge allegiance
to illusion. Hide
in your sacred lies,


just know it serves
as such a thin disguise

when shone
upon, captured,
by the right
kind of eyes, a type

with insatiable hunger
for the truth, no tolerance
for your fucking fiction:

be it bitter or sweet,
is forearming.

I know (I have learned,
blissed and burned)
what I have got

Know if, how, when
to welcome it with open arms
or troops galore,
power and intent fed
by sacrifices
of our versatile armory:

armed to the teeth
with true hope

entirely void
of naïveté.


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