The Existential Dilemma

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Why must you intimidate me so?
Looming large over my speck of a head.
Standing tall and grandiose,
Only the faces on the photographs change.
You tower above the rest,
Watchful, critical.
The hands that carried you from sand to pillars lie dead,
Like monuments razed to the ground.
So fleeting, to have existed for a fraction of your history,
When you just go on.
Only the shadows change,
On your walls,
From tinted panes to rusty hinges.
Overwhelmed, I gulp down my fate in a split second.
Why is it,
That you shall be,
In perpetuity.
And I shall not.
Why only the words to the song change,
Reverberating inside your halls.
Tell me why the faces change.

©bewitchinglyme

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