Feasting with eyes open, the greediness of a good life sets in

A hunger that gnaws, not for bread, but for their gilded ease.

Observing the well fed sitting on grand yachts

Their laughter a distant, mocking melody on the salt-laced breeze.

Feeling obscure on remote, innate objects

The rough texture of stone, the humble curve of a clay bowl

Suddenly alien, a cruel reminder of...

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