It's like there's this huge joke that keeps slipping out of my hand.
Snickers in the dark, always behind me.
A shadow with an impish sense of humor.
At what point did everyone's lives advance so far ahead of my own?
At what point did "being content" become "you're boring"?
I guess I'll just remain as the one who stands in the back and asks questions,
Whose laughter always seems one wavelength behind the pack.
Whose companionship is as a tick to the fleece.
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