Rhyme in English asks, intones—
what’s measure, what’s time,
a deeper why they hide?
No flower, no tree
can grow, be true,
false to the form
rooted deep within.
Yet who shaped us
grants this choice—
to forge a sham
that scars its root,
and in such "freedom"
quells the truth—
to test how far
the soulless falls?
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