I'm torn across axis yet to exist,
Or had once been, since been replaced,
By a sense of self and lack thereof,
When we, by they encased.
Cleavage adorned in modest terms,
Abreast as if more than one,
Still less than two, duplicitous you,
Less I divide by hegemon.
Senses shook, a daily wage,
Of war: be both me and we?
An ancient oath...
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