It’s cold outside, but feels colder within
and the light of eyes a bit more dim
a rebellion against meaninglessness
or the yearning for oneness
end is the same, either way
yet the paths million miles away
one of conscious retaliation
of agony and of damnation
and the other of oblivious bliss
of relish and of passive neglect
and the selfsame gestures
in the faded voiceless pictures
remain the same, either way
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