Another day in the drudge,
Another moment of pondering,
About these materialistic urges,
The ephemeral sense of owning,
Everything inconsequential.
I am like a phoenix egg,
My possessions are resin,
They make me feel beautiful,
Like woodturning,
This egg will never hatch.
But folly is also a remedy,
For life with no goal,
Nothing out of the ordinary,
In synthetic dreams and faux obstacles,
The classic materialism spiral.
This moment of epiphany,
Churns myriad historical aches,
A glimpse through the entanglement,
The profound walls of superficial waste,
Protects the man of lacking heart.
Another moment of pondering,
About these materialistic urges,
The ephemeral sense of owning,
Everything inconsequential.
I am like a phoenix egg,
My possessions are resin,
They make me feel beautiful,
Like woodturning,
This egg will never hatch.
But folly is also a remedy,
For life with no goal,
Nothing out of the ordinary,
In synthetic dreams and faux obstacles,
The classic materialism spiral.
This moment of epiphany,
Churns myriad historical aches,
A glimpse through the entanglement,
The profound walls of superficial waste,
Protects the man of lacking heart.
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