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Broken Compass

Perverted by a strange mechanism
over time,
synchronization with a conscience
was lost

Morality had wore out, become askew

No compass
No needle pointing North

The tracks were laid
No discernible direction

As far as the eye could see
the landscape was entirely flat
no peaks
no valleys
nor any good or bad

only the droning sound
of an engine

that pulled his soul from place to place      
Written by Sinbad
Published
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