I didn't ask the waves,
To beat a bit quieter.
Nor do I ask,
The wind, to
Change it's course.
They pave themselves,
With will and whelm.
Then why, do you ask
My lassitude speaks,
To see a different,
Version of mine,
When I stand before,
You; your belief,
You see the penumbra
Of the actual me.
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