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Eric Blair got misplaced

It was a bright cold day

in April, and the clocks struck

thirteen as he looked

to modern classics

for freedom

and accepted his ignorant weakness.

Despite the rearranging of words

the fact remained

he had taken a totalitarian

wrong turn,

this was not the romance section.

He felt the weight of paper,

read instructions

for a future ownlife. Narrated

warnings, dreaded overall collectivism.

Got lost in statistical sanity

while waltzing

with images

of stamping boots

and learning lines of lust and guilt.

He recited 101 ways to seduce

propaganda, whispered Newspeak doctrines

to amorous party members.

Plotted a surreptitious fling with

surveillance and found room

for craving

for Julia. The truth

rewrites desire,

passion is freedom.

Dystopia is a curious affair.

They may have watched

but they never saw the double truth

that in reality he yearned

to write a love poem.

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