But then there are numbers in brackets
And poems, and words, and songs
There are sweet praises
And sordid whispers
Kindness and cruelty
All tumbled in one
Perhaps I should thank you
For robbing me of my insecurities.
I will have nothing to confess
At the time of reckoning
Because in the end
Everything is nothing
I am no fool
I remain in reality
But I cannot ignore
How innocence
Makes everything
Reckless.
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