"Abandoned Servitude"

Measured-in-breaths respite, this hall of mirrors
Glitteringly spins like a ball of mirrors.

Cross & recross the 38th Parallel,
Our lost patrol after the fall of mirrors.

There are those who refuse all chemical love,
And then surrender to the call of mirrors.

This blind astronomer carves the Milky Way
To be his targe against a squall of mirrors.

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