I’m staring at a crate,
A crate full of bottles.
One of them is leaking.
Slowly its contents spread.
Covering those around it,
With its cold glow.
The bottles are people.
Their lives are inside.
One of them is leaking.
Its contents seeping out.
Those around it don’t see.
They see only their own.
It is nearly empty.
It sounds different now.
The other bottles ignore it.
They cannot do anything.
The hole could not be seen.
So it could not be fixed.
I’m staring at a crate,
A crate full of bottles.
One of them is empty.
Its contents are gone.
It will be thrown out now.
Cause it’s just an empty bottle.
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