Resting atop your head,
All the things you’ve done one could never guess,
Looking at how you’re dressed,
Or meeting you through a mutual friend,
Then dating for a while,
Spending hours a day getting to know you,
Helping you through a trag’dy to a smile,
Arguing at length ‘bout important things,
Like god and the future,
None of these things show all the nasty stuff,
To which you’ve been inured,
That surprise me,
Plus ev’ryone you know,
Perhaps if we were all an open book,
Our lives would not be filled with so much woe.
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