Only the lonely find companionship in shadows

A fallacy of fact

Solely the single see the abyss in a shallow

Puddle of conversation

Sanity assumed out of tact

Palms sweat at the slightest hint of verbal initiation

The sweetest voice is framed by no being

No treatment for the malady

Of no desire for confrontation

Communication merely fashioned

To fill the isolated sensation

The man-made void lacking clarity

The boxed gift of independence

And silence

Unappealing to the nobility in the realm of science

And reification

Where words exist to describe

What the perfect mind is

A lake of bitter tastes for popularity

Drained by notoriety

Attained from the hunger to assimilate

To the exclusive upper-echelon society

Where talks are made with urgency

Where words are inflated currency

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