OK, this is the start
A story of friends growing apart
Not fishing for pity or casting of blame
(two perspectives are never the same)
I flounder ahead
To say what’s to be said
Admit the excuse
I usually use
Until I’m better or dead
Two years ago the doctor revealed
In tones that would go unappealed
I was bipolar
The world should go solar
I carry in my pocket half a mandibular molar.
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