How strange it is that in the
great Sweepstakes of Life some
choose their numbers so poorly.
Reflecting perhaps, not so
greatly on their qualities of
personal discernment but on
the chameleon abilities of the
other half of the equation to
take on the prevalently trusted
colours of the social contract, a
covenant that seems on the
surface to reflect well for the
future, but is destined to collapse
as the shades drain and the
grim reality of bleak black
emerges with dread finality.
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