A faulty stone
A giant tumbles
Bearing fruit
Along the crumbles
Wearing much
Upon the plate
Bearing witness
at the gate.

“Will we ever
find true solace?”
“When we end
the gilded palace.”

Colossal heights
amount to none
Circling ’round
and ’round the sun
Loosely lumbering
Grasping black
I think it’s time
to take it BACK.

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