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It often takes a complex ruse
to cover up the mess of one
little lie…

The covered tracks along
the forest edge of my mind
conceal answers to questions
the class never thought to ask…

Towards the end she was still
and pale, asking for him more
often than me. It seems many
a ruse had been seen through…

I put gas and match
to the files, leaving her
to him, him to her,
with no trace of me…

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