Night is upon us,
So predictable, yet so unexpected.
We anticipated all would glow ever brighter until we were bathed in perpetual gold,
But now we are surrounded by absence.
We look to each other,
Seeking to pinpoint blame for who stole the light.
It was all of us.
The darkness always lay within.
Our lies displaced our memories, making us strangers to our natures.
A fiction was cast,
In place of our shadows.
Delusions became monuments to our vanity.
Narcissus wedded his self-portrait, and they gave birth to our egos.
Inbred and overfed, we look better unseen.
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