My presence is tolerated
By the generosity of your spirit
The kindness of your heart
Allows me to breathe in your air
You sacrifice your comfort
To allow my choice of life
The pleasure of your fare
Is spoiled by its cook
If I were another
Or hidden more away
If I only spoke deluded
You might hear what I say
But I am myself
I find humor in the joke
But none in disregard
Or loveless rude custom
Tacky manners ill conceal
Your not hidden dislike
There is no longer pleasing me
It really is too late
Again, I must caution against assumptions. If you recognize yourself or another or nobody at all … is that entirely coincidental?
Bear … 02.18.2014



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