I am not he.
I am even not myself; even not me.
Ever, am I searching.
I cater not to thee; words of candor escape from me often enough; loose statements from a fidgety imbecile.
Regardless, I am not he.
How is it?
How, I ask, is it I care for those who do better unto me than I do by myself?
Accusations shortcut this process.
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