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Forest for the trees slapped my startled face,
Focused on minutia studying each line,
Magnifying power context erased,
Got lips, teeth and tongue around each word sublime.

Elocution complete with feigned stumbling,
Loss of story’s power is rehearsal’s curse.
Wrapped up in cues at cost of real meaning,
Potent truth that at times better is worse.

Where is the pain behind our staged pratfalls?
Should I sit here or must I run over there?
To carry dead weight may be death of us all,
Pull components together to make all clear.

The pain and confusion is nothing new,
With messy childbirth we strive to imbue.

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