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Immune - Carl Scharwath

We confront ourselves as portraits.

Disguised as respectable people

encased  in our narcissistic vignette.

Phantom metropolises become voiceless

in a world society colonized with the passionless

cries for sustenance locked in a mute grave.

The gallery holds the key to symbiotic inaction

as the melodrama unfolds replacing hypocrisy.

Compassion less in the crowd, we find peace in ourselves.

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