the heart of are

you are photocopy tongue
swimming in the toner
the ink of another’s think
plagiarism’s stink
some don’t even blink

the replay of the motion
the emptied out emotion
no care, no devotion
just replication
loose recreation
tourists at christ’s last station

make it in plastic
forget it in melting
it feels apocalypse drastic
but there’s truth in the felt thing
some time in a production line
what does individuality define?

copy degradation can occur
the copies of you blur
some truths may stir
to the heart of are from were

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