Hermit
I sit alone
with what I own
the walls are each named Greg or Steve
and as I lay
dusk leaves with day
and the stars remind me of Sun's reprieve
I speak to my
own self why lie
my advice at least is clear
and even so
if lying foe
within me should speak I wouldn't hear
What to remember
but one lost December
when all I had was everything
and though I live
through poor man's sieve
sorrow is not mine to sing
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