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Reflection Depression
July 8, 2011
They huddle in masses, staring out at
the bleak grays of weary water and
rust red of muddy shores.
The dusty sky conceals community,
gives way to clustered buildings but no homes.
Crude paint lies, the colors only painted on but
they'll never feel the sun.
The reflection speaks breathlessness, while reality speaks silence.
They should dive into the water world,
but they'll never leave their solemn city.
The gray is all they know.
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