I've been enjoying myself.
It's the only thing left
I have.
Except for a thing
or two I have left
behind,
but nostalgia like that
holds a limited use and appeal,
I find.
I've put out the lights
as each one fails. It only
has proved that each was vain.
How many enlightened selves
would it take
to screw in a bulb or two?
For shame
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