The labeling becomes more important than the that
Which is labeled - it often occurs this misbegotten
Wonder of existence: is it real or an imprint? A copy
Of a copy? Whose call was it anyways? Whose turn
This is such a daft argument: replayed in various times
Once I was a waitress, then on a boat, then in a canyon
In a small town which pretended to be silence incarnate
These many misbegotten existences taunt me - what is
What may be - what will be - that’s not for me - and
All of me