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Story No. 33237
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They lived in glass houses; all made the same, no frame, no claim to fame; just a chain of shame; for thinking only of their gains
and the sudden loss of their conscience. They felt
above it all, reinging supreme; in a world no one should try and conquer
SOMETHING, but we thrive on Nothing anymore. We live without hope, supplimenting rage for indifference and
ignorance, with eyes wide shut
or, at least, pupils tattooed on our lids.
