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There’s a gap

Between each line

Which lies a place

For the unearthed to

Lie under.

A space for belonging

And beholding

Where there are no

Corners to expose

Where we wish not to pose.

This gap is a place

Where those that

Exist try to resist

The others that

Insist us to be alive.

This place is pure

And clean and calm

And precious for those

That, like me, can’t

And won’t but do.

They do as they’re told

And do the living thing

So that the others that live

Can be assured that it

Wasn’t their fault.

It wasn’t their fault

That they didn’t want

To do the do that all

The others do

But they did it anyway.

They did it because they

Didn’t want those at fault

To know it was their fault

Because maybe it wasn’t

Their fault.

Maybe it was all in the

Didn’t’s head

The Didn’t Loves the Do

And so will do what the Do wishes

So the truth remains unknown to the Do.

The Did and the Do

Remain living

The Did in the gap

The Do on the line

Both existing because of one another.

The Do stands on the line

The Did now stands on the track

Because the Did missed the gap

They were in and were told to

Mind. And now the gap

Is somewhere the Did doesn’t want to be

And the Do is watching them

And there is nothing the Do can do

Because otherwise they’ll not mind the

Gap either and fall on the tracks

And then there’ll be no one left

On the line to reach down through

The gap and pick up the Do and the Did.

So, the Do stays on the line

And the Did remains in the gap

And no one is on the track

Because the Do and the Did

Minded that god damn gap.

The gap for the dids: Work
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