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One Case For Chaos
The roads are clean and straight;
Lawns with no weeds.
The wild is locked and fenced;
The trash is in your pocket.
People park within lines;
Never mind arbitrary confines.
The crazy man in the hermitage
Still dwells there in another age.
In this need for order and work,
There's its own madness;
Of evens, odds, and edges,
A life is measured in wages.
Copyright ©
Misheel Chuluun
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