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They have a code.

It tells them who to love.

They love in others what they do not see

That they possess themselves.
I know all the codes.

Why can’t I find one of them,

For my own?

A flutter of wings,

A momentary battle

It’s over.

“I know all the codes,” I gloat, preparing to dine,

“It makes you so easy to catch.”

“No,” he replies, “It’s my fault.

After all, I had to come to you.”

Can't I have anything?

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Infinite Improbability Drive

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