(The whole world is an hermitage, and we the lonesome dwellers.)
It's never good to be an erm-it
And find your thoughts get more and more unhinged.
When anything is possible, nothing true is possible
The dots all join to form a perfect storm
And imagination wild is the limit
Of what apparations are found.
Or, with clear rules to be always straight
And start again when you have failed
You've built your own prison cell.
But what if hermit wants to meet?
But no one wants to meet him, not on his deluded terms?
What then?
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