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humanity has so many beloved terms
a million interpretations of love
and with that poetic expression
literary marvels, painters canvas
it comes to the point where we find
ourselves alone with perfection
thinking there is so little left
that hasn't been done, or explored
is our universe as so contained
and our expression so truly feigned
that we believe we're so limited
comestically different but the same
what if we found ourselves alone
what use is the expression
for we have left is reflection
and the memory of being human.
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