Or, Why?
I sit and watch the passer-byes
Not staring back my curious eyes
I wear a mask of oak-like tree
To judge that fare of humanity
Walk, they do, with robotic pace
A grip of stride, a steady race
What they do, where they go
They puzzle me, but do they know
Do they persuade an oath of life
An evasion of the surly knife
Maybe, they see a random fool
A wasting one, a stubborn mule
To each his own, or why?
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