So Say the Sorry Sons of the Second Sun

surely serving the last succulent, savory bits of sustenance to our sordid selfish lusts for a savior

seamlessly slithering, serpentine, in between, the scenes of these sorrows

slowly selecting the memories, scars of spoken lies and scattered souls

sailing the seas of sickening self service and sacrifice

searching for salience, sentience, salvation

solitary and spineless

screaming silently

suffocating

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