I GET OFFENDED
You know what, Doctor Von Aimless,
I get offended that I'm not great. That
I don't have fame and fortune. You
wanted to know my anomie, well
they're you have it. All laid out. How
I went so wrong I'll never know. It
doesn't keep me up at nights - though
something does - ten thousand chunks
of written clumps and paintings out the
door. The chumps don't even know my
name; not now, and not before. I get
offended by something, dear doctor.
You wanted to know, and now you do.
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