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Fabricated Fortunes
Fly far away to finer thoughts
Where you are friend, not foe.
Here you find infinite futures;
All arriving to the same fear.
Your self-righteous reasoning sees the else impious;
A bleak eventual rendering misery.
But to all your strengths, you too can agree,
You are many things, but not a fortune teller.
So why spin in cycle on and on,
Dizzying what you see here?
You know nothing save you are now.
Go forth and be naught but.
