I know ten thousand things.
Coiled up in my head.
Wrapped in brown paper string.
I know ten thousand things.
I carry untold numbers.
They travel in my pocket.
I travel unencumbered.
Though they should weigh many tons.
Doesn't that bother anyone?
A library of Alexandria in my pocket.
Protected only by apathy.
The man who shuns such knowledge -
well, I guess that fool is free.
The burden grows.
Nobody knows.
But I become more human with each sleeping word,
and I treasure the ones that yearn to be heard.
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