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How Easily Humans Settle In Their Own Despair

How easily humans settle in their own despair,
It's far less work not having to care
For anyone but ourselves.
Like forgotten books on high dusty shelves,
Nothing gets taken from inside.
Within our cloudy minds we hide,
From those who suffer.
As a child clings selfishly onto its mother,
Its only thought is itself.
A bath is more comfortable when used alone,
And so nothing nor no-one is invited into our home.
Life is fragile,
And although we carefully pack and place,
One slip and everything is exposed to space.
How easily humans settle in their own despair,
It's far less dangerous not having to care.

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