He is a man of many words
And yet a man of very few words
They reverberate within his head
They escape his mind via pen
He is one, only, singular
A man in two divided
Black sheep in a sea of sheople
The one faced against the tide
His eyes hide more than they show
You will only be told what he wants you to know
He is text, thought, and rhythm
And only the lucky may know him
He is just like me
He is nothing like me
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