For the story of love,
Of the varied choices left to one,
After being stripped of,
All pretension to knowing what is right,
Or even knowing anything at all,
Just as each generation has to remind itself,
To get finally get beyond,
The legacy of those who came before:
A method born of habit.
But all is lost once it is realized,
That this new story can have no end,
Because it's alright,
To describe a world built on assumptions,
But try to make sense of one built on truth,
And you'll soon find yourself with no foundation.
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