I sometimes feel the urge to sneak
And peak inside this pen
Although I do not hope to turn again
But neither should you not
Because you did not want to turn again
In this mission to find inner truth.

Why would I hope that you hope
If I loathe the remaining desire
Why would I hope to resort
To a manic restrain from your side
For when I see what you may see
I see stray from the path in a slope.

Where else, shall I see you then
But the comfort zone of withered offense
--I must push back the fence?
No more astray-gone the shallow mind
For when you hoped to turn again
Tilted back the lens towards yourself.

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