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Glancing across the chasm,
one barely feels the rain.
Coarse sand, smooth, and smiles, plastic.
Eyes pierce; watch words form and
fall like waves in a storm.
Better to sit and wait.
Staring across the chasm,
one clearly sees the pain.
Helpless, thoughtless yet again.
Waiting to wake and see
the clear, bright light of day.
One sleeps, sleeps just the same.
Standing across the chasm,
they plainly ask again:
Will you wake? Will you wake today?
The echo dissipates.
Unanswered, still silence.
Keeping the light at bay.
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