The high standard of low

It was a stretch this dirty road

going on for miles in no direction

and I moved in a steady pace

making my way to green pastures

that lay over rolling hills

between the fence of indecision

and the writing on the wall

where many seem to gather

like maggots to an open wound

clambering over each other

for the want of nothing

the nothing that fills this world

with the appetite of need

want overshadowing necessity

forging a cold and empty heart

because enough is not enough

and to reject it is to fail.

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