Attempts

Dear your yearly rounds

They've been made concrete

Habit is the creatures

The creatures of the wrong

We who stay established

With support in the Earth

We who are incorrect

Long to escape the same

We've reshaped but not enough

To make the mark of our remains

The lack of sanity

Is what used to make us interesting.



We are no longer interesting.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this in less than a minute, and I don't know what it means.

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