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Myself
I am powerful lonely.
 Sitting, sipping, stewing,
 reveling in my own thoughts
 without my loves,
 my friends and enemies,
 to distract me from myself.
 
 I find my soul.
 Looking, lost, loathing
 myself I find that part inside,
 the ball of weakness
 without absolution from my sins.
 
 I close my eyes.
 Counting, cooling, calling
 unto myself old things
 to remind me
 that I am not
 myself.

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