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The golden tribute
I passed by a stationary, solid gold statue of a brain...
"We called it 'January,'
though it was a cemetary
and writ ourselves servile and obediant."
I stopped to gaze at it, and the world began to shake...
"We called it 'Right,'
made it so in our minds
and spoke like it had always been."
Gravity faded, and all the king's men started floating away...
"We called it 'Begin,'
or maybe, 'Entrance,'
but wept like it was the end."
I grabbed the golden tribute, trying so, so badly to stay...
"We called it 'Rapture.'
We felt It's presence.
We braced ourselves for the best..."
I hid myself from rapture for it wasn't so rapturous...
even less than everyday.
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