Unfinished Rag

As we meet
and separate
we'll integrate
or segregate
all the people
we love to hate.
As we make room for ourselves,
we store our dreams in boxes on shelves
next to the stone carved rules
that fuel the elephant military mules.
Would someone please demonstrate
what lies in fate?
At heaven's gate
in death we create
lord, don't be late.

by alexandria hacker

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