today i realised
that time goes by and i have to reajust the years in my narrative. it`s been seven years since, i`ve been for eleven years in, i`ve done fifteen years of.
now, today may be any other day, may be three months ago or just yesterday or right about now when i`m reciting this poem
i`ve never known in my whole life (thirteen years, sixteen years, nineteen years, twenty one-) anyone with more life narrative than me. i`ve told my tale so well, you`d think it`d get tiresome, repeating it.
you`d think i know me so well, i`d have me figured out.
but sherezade`s go for so long you`ve forgotten the first one when she`s done, and then you realise
she meant to trick you all along
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