A Deep State Of Disorder
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A deep state of disorder at the heart of things;
As the gross, disfigured dawn lolls its bloodied head
Against my window. Then the light begins to fade.
I perceive the deadly plague of swarming insects.
Morning's vibrant birdsong seems almost out of place,
Amidst the sordid cries of withering spectres:
' O my God, my God: why have you forsaken us? '
Their dry, broken voices drift on the wind & clouds.
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