I walk into
the rhythm of a mess
Tales strewn around
with no bloody care.
Too many voices
tugging at my heart.
The mess-y tales
are lost with their details
All that's left
are inconclusive conclusions.
Why is this here?
Where is what?
And then your voice
- throw things away
clear the clutter.
Don't give me credit
but like you
I have a heart.
Forget what tugs me,
think of what tugs you.
Now do
what you ask me to do.
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