i fold into myself
like origami, or
an overripe fruit
exaggerating my stance, gladiator and all,
high hanging
low swinging

sweet chariot

are we
you and i
but mirrors, too? confused and
injected with
such doubt and such force
by mere words, mere tones
mere sprinklings of song
i try
and think
you must be miserable
i woke up oneday
one day

and i realized.
how miserable
can be.

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