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I suppose I would like You to know that I am sorry. That’s how all apologies and the like are supposed to begin, With that admission of guilt or regret or something that tastes like bile
Dr. Phil and Dr. Oz The picket-fathers of modern psychoanalysis And medicine Gnashing our flaws away in gory applause
You screamed at me As the tears slowly Streamed from your eyes And you never told me why All you told me is Don't be like me baby boy Grow up and be smart So your kids won't steal toys
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