Oct. 4th, 2010

boutell: (Default)
You! Whipping boy! You! Punch-drunk pugilist
With empty gloves! You ugly broken toy,
You were born real. You never needed us,
Or cared what strings we pulled. You heard a voice

From somewhere else that named another place
And other games. You lived there patiently
Until you could appear without a trace.
That's what I hear. You sure don't talk to me.

I wouldn't. I'd raise up my regal head
And march right by. I'd never spare a glance
But say enough. I'd cut the fucker dead
If I were you. I wouldn't take the chance-

But that's the bitch. You have forgotten me.
I cannot win or lose. There is no we.

September 2014

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