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What Is the Value of Life If This Is All It Is Reduced To?

A quiet but merciless
centrifugal force
of inarticulate gibberish
burst from people’s lips
around me.
There is no respite
from the meaning
I fail to discern
in their murmurings.
There is no peace
to be had from moving lips
and flailing hands
that corner me.
There is no life
that doesn’t include
this meaningless
display.
Then what’s the value
of a life
if this is all
it is reduced to?

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