A world made of smaller ones
Divisive groups, fearful schemes
Keeping them far away  from us
Filtered through media screens

In oblivion lives are lived apart
Hoarding what we have gained
Seeing more of the differences
And not how we are the same

Dice were rolled, we were born
The gamble of better or worse
With blinders covering our eyes
Some are blessed, others cursed

Stoic Poetry


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