You push yourself over the edge,
but my dear child,

what did you hope would happen?

the world isn't square, but it sure isn't
round either.

the blind-folded lady is hardly blind-folded.
her scales are tipped over;
the mighty sword smitten.

child, let it go.
Let stone and marble remain so,
let your green envy go.

your Sisyphean labour
is all in vain.
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