There is no triumph in numbers.
There is no salvation through words alone.
Have our senses dulled,
our hearts weakened
through constant glowing streams?
We gorge ourselves greedily
in a hunger that knows no
bottom to its trough.
Captive eyes are only as helpless
as the mind that sits behind them.
Our great disease is
one of the mind,
one of the heart
grown cold and
confused.
We wield the instrument
to our cure but
are afraid of making
the cut, the sight
of our own blood.
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