
Disillusionment sets in when one is devoid of emotion.
Within this barren enclave, there is nary a stir.
Depleted of involuntary flutters, skips, scuttles and such, it is a repository at best -
A spectre of sorts, to say the least.
Pathos embellishes and dresses to leave in haste.
Intensity gives way to gurgles and then, the contents of inertia pleasantly jingle.
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