I can't tell if I'm getting sick
or only pining
All I know for sure is
everyone's sick of whining
So barring economic class insurgency
against the toffs
barring cryogenic
space voyage cruiser take-offs
with no possibility
of leaving here intact
I contemplate the lesson
of the artifacts
Somewhere along the wayback
lost the pressure on my chest
the good old hypochondriac
gave up, gave it a rest
the artifacts all cryptic
tell me nothing new
and I'm surely no world's savior
but I'll see my own
collection through
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