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We create lines
That seem to be tempting him

Whoever he may be

To cross
or leave you be

You plea with yourself,
Desperately

Begging that you’ll find the words
To make him see
That he’s one foot over
And a shoulder deep

But it’s not a matter
Of the words you choose
With perfect precision
Wanting to be heard with clear cognition

Because he sees boundaries
As obstacles
He is taught, and even worse,
He believes
He only need work his way through

And if he does
He almost always does

The self you used to see
Now feels obsolete

— The End —