Tonight, you become poetry.
Once again, I have given every
bit and you are an egg
short of a dozen. You said “Not
like them, no, I promise.” Yet
you are a carbon copy. Mister
Famous Anonymous, I am done
here, Mister Liar, Mister I’m Sorry.
I am not looking for an inferior,
nor a superior. I thought, for a moment,
you were my equal.
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