So you think you know everything, through words absorbed from a media of letters and flickering images.
So I think I know everything, through warped conclusions drawn from sordid incidents in my life.
You are the blue of the sky, I am the scorching sun you sweat under. In a world where only grays exist, both of us are right.
And our worlds will never unite.
There shall just be you and me, never a trace of we.
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