Sorry, I'm Sore

I was prperly answering
your questions
It's not even twenty
to eat in portions

The answers bloomed
not for what flower I pick
Life is just a comment
but taken like a picnic

If fancied lightly, piecemeal
Jolted freely as my will
When jarred, olden sill
To find but very real

Then demons as we all
angels are good
But they both agree
In some thought would

Personalities
we hide and show
Turning entities
outside time's window

The grainy study
Of mankind
Assertive because
'Tis not refined

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