Driveless Points – a poem

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None believe the truth when

It comes for them, blindly
Stark and bearing down, all
Alight in the mind, huge
Where it is too close, bloomed.
*
Surely something can be done,
They say, well wishes and talk
Of insipid phrases grating dry
On a mind not resigned but true
To itself in trying and more.
*
The calls of enwrapped voices
Scratch sharp grooves in matter
Which have fooled uselessly with
Anodynes and addiction where
Now truth is the only anodyne
True and fair.

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