Melting like butter on the stove.

Like candlewax on fire.

Caving like a bad tower of Jenga.

Human-kind is weak.

The inability to handle pressure.

The paths of broken clarity.

Here enters the meltdown.

Being blown away like the ashes of incense.

Collect those tears in a plastic vile.

The fragile stick-figure dance in a flipbook.

Human-kind is weak.

An egg in the hand of a giant.

Glass under the foot of a beast.

Fall apart at the drop of a hat.

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