The less of which
You see me here
An empty shell
Of my former self
Held together by stitches
Like some freakish doll
Piece me together
Pick up my pieces
And try to fit them to
The specifications you have
Before you
Watch me dance at the end
Of your strings
Look ma I am a real boy
As my nose grows
Because broken as I am
The truth is an abstract idea
The less of which
I find comfort in
Chris McQueeney 4/8/15
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