They say there's more of you,
back in the day.
You're a shell of a man,
that's what they say.
Go back! Find it, find it!
Less, less, you cry.
Not sad; angry, empty.
Try again, you lie.
Yet it spreads further,
beyond the now, the why, the how.
Never better, but sometimes worse:
what will time allow?
Do you know where to look?
As you close...
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