I’m going to write of what will be
When one and one will equal three
And you’ll be hanging on the line
Between what’s true and what’s denied

You’ll blankly stare at pictures made
Of choices forced to cover shame
In smoke filled rooms of solitude
You’ll long for oneness made of two

You’ll gather dreams into a pyre
And seek a match to light the fire
You’ll find me with my hand stretched out
Each match you light I will snuff out

A thousand times over if need be
Until the day you come to me
Without want, or need or goal
To sit beside the truth I hold


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