We repeat the mistakes of the past.
Thin bony fingers extend from
graves, wagging at us as if to
say, “You should know better.”
We repeat the mistakes of the past.
Future generations revisit them
as they move backward not
forward at terrifying speed.
We repeat the mistakes of the past,
and the incessant clacking and clattering
of skulls and digits, as they shake
in disapproval,
has yet to set us on the correct path.
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