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Within our deoxyribonucleotides
The science of poetry forever resides.
A structure endlessly complex
Provides for the necessary effects
That move, a creature,
One of understanding.
             love.
              music.
               dancing.

A chain of polypeptides
Pulls us close and confides.
Secrets that must never reach a soul
Find their way through a hole
To our most defining feature
That plays for us thought.
      breath.
        blood.
         pleasure.

And as we stand staunchly engraved
Upon the notion that our paths are paved
We find ourselves no more aware
That the next day may not be so fair.
That the next day might hold a fracture
Of the worst possible kind.
             method.
              ignorance.
               disgrace.

So as we look upon our latest fling,
Or make the world from that which is bought,
We are the touch of chance, a fateful wisp. Keep in mind.

— The End —