Prone to rage and shame,
I'm a weapon with no aim.
Pushing away whoever's close,
test those I need the most.
It's harder to write than revise,
looking out from one-way eyes.
Pictures have scripts that fit:
that's me, the kid who can't hit.
Quiet and gifted, sent away;
lived it then, feel it here today.
Look back too long, this moment dies,
looking out from one-way eyes.
I'm in the cave, can't stop--
keep the drill to the rock.
Remember a touch, laugh, smile,
so much softer back a while.
How present am I, feeling old highs?
Looking out from one-way eyes.
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