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Sep 2014
How can one measure happiness?
Today's youth fades into tomorrow's yesterday,
As age wears its weary toll upon
The cherub faced nation that cried at it's mother's breast
And asked for the world in technicolor.

The sun slinks his ambivalent profile across the unforgiving sky,
As we pace face down against the grain of time,
Counting seconds until they spill over,
Lapping up against our freshly polished shoes and quivering ankles,
And drown out the dying magic
Of the coming hour.

Day after day, we are aware of nothing,
Moved forward by the simple urge to live,
Created by motion pictures and life insurance billboard advertisements.
Is this what it means to be alive?

Years pass, and we pursue the same ancient questions,
That have disrupted our conscience
And held us accountable
For millenniums.
Yet, we are still no closer to an answer to our empty prayers.

Afraid of the unknown, we peel the face off God,
And disguise him in languages and fables
That embody an entire civilization
And the fear that turns it's wheels.
Meka Boyle
Written by
Meka Boyle
   --- and SPT
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