souless spectators
Whats happened to our ego'swhy have we buried our flesh?
in a dying ground
the emerald flakes
grasslike sphears
spike out lifeless body
the worms craw
feeding of our
dimished souls
reeping rewards
from our souless spectators
souless spectators
Whats happened to our ego'sTo have great poets there must be great audiences too.
Walt Whitman, American Poet (1819-1892)
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