When I Hear It

I hope they liked it

God, everything is so fucking connected

My brain could do with fewer neuronal connections

Synaptic pruning

Prudence

And confidence

 

But to my dismay, I am little

In your hallway

And we seem aghast

In this mirror

Side-by-side

 

Little, still

Never complete

I just shit around

When the clock ticks behind my back

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