"here I sit, having some poetic thoughts"
I guess our bodies make us up
Because we help them reproduce.
We tend to feel like we're in charge
And our job's to take care of them.
We're engineered to make the boasts
And take the blame, however life
Decides to treat us. We've been framed.
There's no soul ever planned a life
Much less built and succeeded,
Nor failed in its execution.
My body belongs to me as
Waves belong to the foam they make,
Still I suspect I am useful,
A social self among the selves
Of other bodies. Bodies thrive
On thriving bodies, big surprise.
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