The wind blows through my hair , as I stand and wait..
people walk by.
Slaves to the monotonous madness we call life.
Staring at the fleeting sky
I wonder. As day turns to to black.
Stars , I see unchanged,as thier light travelles millions of years to meet my eyes.
I still wonder Why?Why? are we slaves to this cyst, this farce of
surrealism, when we can just stand and stare and enjoy the beauty of

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