I guess a part of me wants what I can not have,
The things that are fallacy or mystery,
Or are insignificant;
I guess a part of me needs to dream for the unobtainable,
To pray for a miraculous change,
To find limitlessness,
Among the cluster of our universally acclaimed existence.
I guess a part of me lusts for the propaganda to be fact,
For the ideologies of our generation to become constants,
In a time when nothing more than death can,
When all we have is our lives represented by nothing more than points on a finite cosmic line.
All that is us must end before all that is new can be,
But before that I guess we must give up on infinity,
For her timely actuality declares us all uselessly invalid,
Just people stuck here to ride it all out.
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