You stockpile your faults around you.
Like self propelled life preservers,
In an ocean of kerosine and napalm
As long as you hold the fuse
There is no effect on you.
Oblivious, it seems, to the truth of things.
You use your misdoings as a weapon,
To weaken the knees of all you see.
And yet,
When observations are made,
From foe and friend alike,
You burn deep into the night.
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