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Oct 2013
Every so often
You're unearthed
in my mannerisms,
Relics of the past
Uncovered on accident
and up for interpretation.
The strangest winds
Blow the dirt off
That certain eyeroll
or inflection,
Offering but clues
To my past
and our fall from grace.

Our civilization is over;
No collection on pedestals
Can change that,
Though it's kept on display
So we don't forget our history
And spare ourselves from
Being doomed to repeat it.
JW Harvey
Written by
JW Harvey  NYC
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