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Dust Of A Gun Barrel

One azure, one shade, one of many expressions therein
In tandem with the Earth, man creates his own tomb;

For life is like a bullet fired involuntarily
Into the back of the head

As we look ahead we are helpless
Against the point in time in which it strikes us
At best we can ignore the barrel pointed at us
Some are not aware of that metal shaft of death

When those minute drops permeate into our skin we age along with the rate at which those
Very tiny globes of water evaporate
And then we wonder if we might have some control

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