There is a well rehearsed deception; it is a contagious infection.
It sooths, it moves, while unnoticed it distorts individual perceptions.
Agreeing there, claiming care, as it carefully undermines with scorn
Fingers pointing, seams disjointing, the fabric becomes torn.
What it creates, it cries distaste; and lays blame in other directions;
Count “I” in its replies; these are the hints...
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