there's now a dozen you's in here, I counted them you see -
the you I left, the you you were, the you that's leaving still
and each one a little title to a social execution I didn't see
some greater mis-demenour I engineer backwards to make me
the indignant party, to make me scott-free
an alibi for my insides, something to help me sleep
make me feel the warm confort of the righteous
the deep content of the wronged...
but that's all bullshit and you know it, I know it.
We all know it.
.
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