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Machines in our systematic reproach. Humans in our disengaged chambers. To you fuel from what is not anything. Let it rile up the senses, dillute the very soul. Surged on a perspective nerve. To pinch until it starts to burn. Antagonize, until it was only fair play. We are dimming the Sun from what night cannot find, when shadows climb every mountain hide realize it is built up from nothing. What everything is not what you thought remember it is built up from nothing's vault. Reality and what you sought to distort was distorting you. Vote for this poem
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