Envy
Politics is a thing in itself it’s a trust of most trusted
A part of reality akin to weather you take as it comes
Choose or not what is chosen for you anyway you’re adjusted
To a fate of some nation from which to drop out there isn’t a chance
So in the evening, beside the desk, you take care of the news
Seeing your facelessly multiplied fate in one line maybe two
Feeling generalized for just nothing you’d consciously use
You envy Descartes, and the rose in the garden that’s growing for you.
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