I’m not here to amuse as you heard
If I have fun, something was earned
Let my sum dispute, to label it “fine”
As I fight for what is no longer mine

I know of time, of its limited consent
Of its success, & its disappointment
From what it was, to what it could be
In pause, the must (worth) is this ‘be’

Deep within; “I do not fit complexion”
Of a pointer pointing at this direction
I hear… snips to value, lashes by gain
I’m not in your skin nor am I your pain

In resume, I spell: – “I don’t know you”
In zoom, too: – “I don’t know me well”

© Ricardo Sexton


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