By Rhetoric
Date: 2001 Oct 09
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[[2001.10.09.15.15.25494]]

No Room to Grow

Here I stand; a complete whole, halved and broken at the mind.
I fear the humble dichotomy in my head has now given way to fruitful offspring.  My One, fighting, cursing, and damning the Two that rip at the careful plans of One.  

In failed attempts to regain my glory, One has been beaten by the numbers.
For Two, surely, have more wit and cunning to commence coup d'état.  No amount of medicinal calm will dull the Two from the mind wreckage they wage in my skull.  

My poor, poor One; she has no allies to cross the line of fire in Love.
When, I fear, will the Two procreate confusion and become a Trio of storms?
When, I pray, can I give truest voice to the One who makes me whole?

Here I stand; rings of time mark my mind, with a body-field of battle.
My One, broken, rattled, and beaten by the Two that slash away dreams.
My poor, poor One.