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Objectivity

There is a mob in the backyard,
protesting my nightmare.

They wear t-shirts bearing the image,
of the man who wants me dead.

They chant the same 'Down With Jeff! ' slogan
so forcefully I swear it has a shadow.

What have I done to deserve this?

I pick up a sign and move among them,
like a kind of silence murderers return to.

I join the chant against me,
and for the first time I feel a sense of belonging.

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