times, like idle rhymes, flow,
inuring consciences, feeding on apathy, to grow,
time, the scything blade, slices through ramparts, leaving the scabbard bloody red, retreating as it departs,
time, peels off the veneer, refinement laid bare, the grotesque masquerade, in which we all our parts must share, the sorry charade … … …
The title drew me in and then the poem had me! Brilliant!
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Once again, humble gratitude and warmest wishes
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